


I Think About (*) You All The *Fucking Time

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Hogwarts Era, Idiots in Love, Infidelity, Mutual Pining, Post-War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2020-06-03 05:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: During school, Theodore and Hermione developed a unique and unspoken friendship, and maybe something more. War left little time for closure and time moves on. A chance meeting on the streets of Paris years later- with a few drops of potent Vertiaserum-and secrets Theo had meant to be left better alone come to light.





	1. Paris; 2004

Theodore Nott sat hunched over his work table, one finger splayed across the rough grain of the tabletop that was stained, dinged, and occasionally irreparably burnt from the multitude of testing that had occurred upon it. His other hand held a dropper with Manticore venom, suspended above a bubbling and slightly noxious iridescent purple potion. Licking his lips, he squeezed in precise drops, counting it off in his head as he went. 

_ Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty- _

Draco slammed a bottled potion onto the table next to him. He’d been so fully engrossed in this work that he hadn’t seen his friend approach, much less prepare himself for the loud echoing sound. He jolted, dropping the entire dropper into the potion. 

Years of Quidditch had kept him quick and agile, and he was able to shove Draco down and throw up a first-rate shield spell moments before the cauldron exploded. The shockwave of the blast vibrated against his protection, and below him, Draco watched their workplace turn from the usual near-immaculate state to one that was dripping in sizzling ooze. 

“Draco!” Theo snapped irritably, “What the fuck, mate? Arg, that took me four months!” 

“Okay,” Draco said, standing as he patted off the dust on his robes, “That was not the pain potion. Pain potions don’t have volatile ingredients in them.” 

“The pain potion took about two minutes to stir today,” Theo waved a dismissive hand, appraising the extent of the damage. Draco picked up the vial that had caused it all, wiping off the sludge on the exterior with a cleanish rag, “That was the potion to temper emotions, which is-,” He paused, realizing that the potion was all but ruined, “ _ Was _ \- extremely delicate.” 

“It’s not my fault you didn’t change the warning board outside! That’s why it’s there.” Draco argued. 

Theo holstered his wand in his pocket, “Well, it’s useless now. What was so important that you just had to interrupt me?” 

“The Veritaserum alternative, it’s done.” 

Theodore's eyebrows rose near his hairline, “What? No. It wasn’t supposed to be done simmering for another two months.” He said, unshelving one of the journals to check. By his and Draco’s calculations with this potion, it was far too early. 

“Yeah, I know. But when I checked on it today, it was exactly the right color. In fact, it was starting to turn red, so I took it off the burner. Theo, I think it’s actually good.” 

Theodore took the vial in. He held it up to the light, frowning, “The Ministry will be pleased, I suppose.” 

Veritaserum had been around for eons. The idea before had been ' _don’t mess with what’s perfect'_ , right? Except that people began building a tolerance for it, as one often did to long exposure to certain potions. When the Ministry had come to Draco and Theo’s potions store with a check too big to refuse, this had become their number one project. Something stronger, better, and more infallible than what was already pretty damn good. 

“Well, it’s not done-done.” Draco reminded him, as though he needed it. Theo was just as good a potioneer as his old school friend; nothing was finished until it was tested, tweaked, and then repeated about twelve times over. At least, nothing at their shop was. 

Draco dragged Theo out to the kitchenette, heating up a mug of hot water and summoning over a bag of tea. 

“It’s green. We didn’t account for that,” Theodore said, realizing it was not colorless. This might be a problem. 

“I did,” Draco said, seeping the tea, “So…” 

Theo set the vial down, smirking, “It’s your turn, Malfoy.” Theo had tried the last potion, and it had given him the side effect of itchy skin for days afterward. They could always force a poor intern to drink the ones that could be drunk or apply those that were topical, but frankly, they trusted themselves most. They were both attuned to picking out certain bugs in their creations, being able to taste plants and combinations with accuracy most starting potion makers could not. 

“Yeah, but,” Draco hedged, “Look, I have this super important dinner with Luna tonight. I’m meeting her dad. We both know I have the ring and tonight is not the night to propose. If this works,” He flicked the side of the glass, “I'll spill the secret.” 

“Draco, we take turns. It’s how it works.” Theo said slowly. 

“I didn’t think this would be done for a while! Honestly, mate, please?” Draco said, “I’ll...I’ll be the guinea pig the next two,” he saw Theo’s face, “No, three times! And I’ll clean up the entire workspace today. Please?” 

Theodore gave a long sigh. Don’t go into business with your best friend, they said, you have to be able to be professional, they said. 

“Bugger it all,” Theo cussed, “It’s only because I actually like Luna and she deserves a really nice proposal!” 

“You are mint. Honest.” Draco clapping Theo’s shoulders, “Let me grab the notebook.” 

Once situated, Draco uncorked the vial. He sniffed the top, shaking his head. 

“Nothing.” 

He passed it to Theo, who inhaled, “I concur.” 

Handing it back to Draco, he also pushed the mug of English Breakfast to the blonde snake. Draco flipped a couple of pages, “You have a fairly high tolerance to the normal stuff, yeah?” He didn’t have to ask, not really. All former Death Eaters were required to. Even as he said it, the scarred Dark Mark itched, just for a second, “So, let’s do three drops.” 

“That seems conservative.” 

“If it’s not enough, we’ll try more,” Draco pointed out. 

He tapped three drops into the tea. As soon as it hit the drink, the droplets turned transparent. Theo raised a single eyebrow, glancing at Draco who was grinning at him in a very ‘I-told-you-so’ sort of way. Bloody prat. 

Theo picked up the mug. 

“Here’s to hoping I don’t suddenly combust into flames-,” 

“-Or end up as mush to be scraped up off the ground,” Draco finished the cheeky mantra they’d begun saying before trying any of their experiments. Theo couldn’t even remember who began saying it, but eventually, they’d both started mumbling it, and now it was almost a good luck charm. 

Theo sipped the tea. 

“Tastes like tea,” He said, his first observation, “Oh, urg, wait,” Theo winced. The potion, mixed in with the tea, was starting to cover the back of his throat uncomfortably. It sorta tasted like burnt marshmallow, but the bad bits. The bad bits if someone threw them in a blender and mixed it with some gasoline and had Theo drink it. The more he touched his tongue around his gums, the more present the taste became. 

He saw Draco furiously scribbling. 

“What are you writing?” 

“What you just said,” Draco replied, looking at Theo like he was crazy, “About marshmallows and muggle blenders?”

“I didn’t say anything!” 

Had he? He’d still been gathering his thoughts. He was usually more articulate with his findings. 

“I mean, being inarticulate doesn’t really matter,” Draco interrupted him. 

Theo slapped his hands over his mouth, “Fuck.” 

Draco looked positively gleeful, “We know it works.” 

“I didn’t even know I was talking out loud!” 

He looked at the potion bottle. As he began to ruminate on the potion, he focused very hard not saying his thoughts out loud. Pleased he could at least do that, he wondered if three drops were too much, or if this was the outcome any time? How would it work with specifically guided questions, say if Draco questioned him about his favorite color? Green, predictably, but if there was anything harder…

“Like who you had your first wet dream about?” Draco asked, snorting back laughter. He noticed that Draco hadn’t phrased it as a question, thank Merlin. He also purposely hid the person behind a thick wall as he focused on the fact that- once again- Draco had known his thoughts. 

“No! I wasn’t talking. I was making very sure that I…” He trailed off as Draco tapped his wand. A projection of the last thirty seconds flickered, showing Theodore very clearly saying exactly the thoughts that had just passed through his mind. 

“You really didn’t know that you were talking?” Draco asked, “Fascinating.” 

“I was focusing!” Theodore rubbed his forehead, “Okay, so some component of this potion makes you talk about whatever you’re thinking about and, worse, somehow disconnects the part of your brain that recognizes your taking and your mouth. So, basically, any thoughts I’m having are broadcasted whether I like it or not.” 

“Worse? I think the Ministry will be over the moon!” Draco was grinning like a child at Yule, “One problem with traditional truth serum is that the speaker, while compelled to answer, can just say short clips. They can maneuver their answer, even if it’s a truth. With this, you don’t know you’re spilling until it’s too late.” 

“I can’t go around like this!” Theo almost took another sip of his tea before remembering the potion in it, “Bloody ada, Draco.” 

“Remember the time that the potion turned my skin chartreuse?” 

“Having a strange new look is not nearly the same as spilling all my inner thoughts like I’m a sappy pre-teen girl and the world is my diary.” Theo spit out, “While you clean the room, I’m going to be locked in the back office. Tell everyone if they know what’s good to stay away.” 

Unless they want to get hexed, he thought. 

“Aye-aye, Hexing would be bad, I agree.” 

Theodore locked his jaw and kicked the wall. 

Three hours later, after Theodore had spent the better part of his solitude catching up on owls (he didn’t seem to write an unchecked stream of thought vomit, thank Merlin), Draco knocked on the door. 

“Hey? Worn off at all?” He asked, creaking the door open, “Normal serum lasts five hours max.” 

Theo thought very colorful swear words, and from the way Draco winced, he was still saying them. Good. 

At Theo’s withering glare, he tapped his chin, “Think about...uhm, what are you passionate about? Potter?” 

_ You’re the one who’s still passionately against the twat, Draco. I never had half as much a problem with him as you did. Merlin, just move on. The war’s over. Life is good. Except, of course, being under this new potion. Damn, if we weren’t so good, I’d really hate us right now. I sort of do… _

“Well, brill!” Draco clapped his hands. Theo’s shoulders slumped in relief. 

“I wasn’t saying that all out loud?” He asked, already gathering his things to go home. 

“Yes and no. It was like a bad radio connection, and I was trying to tune you in and out. I could only hear about half of that, and they were sort of cut off. I mean, I got the gist of it, but yeah, it’s wearing off.” 

Theo lightly dropped his head onto his desk. 

“Draco, you-,” 

“Yeah, I know it all. I can hear it. Apparently, the connection is better when you’re emotional.” Draco rubbed his chin, “Look, it’s cleaned up and I have to go home to meet Luna soon. I’d be super interested to see how long this lasts, but we’ll do more tests later.” 

“On interns,” Theo growled. 

“Oh, for sure, for sure,” Draco said, “Anyway, erm, have a good night?” 

Theo flipped him the bird. 

He slowly packed up his things. He made sure the lab really was spick and span. He recounted their stock. He checked on their potions before the weekend. All of this only held him at the store about two hours longer. Intermittently, he recorded himself on his wand. He watched his figure played back, aghast to see that he was still speaking about 50% of any given average thought out loud. Draco was also right; when he was emotional, he was more likely to say full thoughts. Like when he stubbed his thumb, his mental tirade against Intern Sachen for not  _ freaking putting the cauldron on the right way  _ was spoken in full, compared to when he was just reminding himself they needed more parsley or to check on the parcel arrival date with their crushed African spider legs. 

It was becoming far too long to stay in the workshop. Begrudgingly, he closed off the lights and locked the doors with their usual array of locks before stepping out into the Paris dusk. 

He might usually apparate home, but he knew that as a bad hangover, the best way to get a potion out of one’s system was to drink water and continue moving. He figured if he headed straight back to his flat, and thought of fairly innocuous things, he’d be safe. He usually stopped at a cafe for dinner, but today he’d go straight home and hope he had enough in his fridge for a meal. 

As an extra security measure, Theo cut into Muggle Paris, weaving through the non-magical streets. The patrons of the fair city might think him slightly mad for mumbling half-complete thoughts under his breath, but he was far less likely to get distracted here than in the bustling streets of his world. 

He kept his head low, hands shoved into his jacket pocket. His fingers traced the smooth wood of his wand, ready to just jump home at any given second if he thought some muggle something was going to infuriate or confuse him to the point where he’d be blabbing uncontrollably. 

He kept his eyes focused on the sidewalk. Hard to be emotional about slabs of concrete, right? He counted each crack he went over. He recited the Draught of Living Death recipes in his mind. He only glanced up at crossroads to see if he was still on track for his flat. 

A woman brushed by him. Rather, she came into his peripheral, and then stopped dead. 

“Theodore? Theodore Nott? Is that you?” 

Theo jerked his head up, furrowing his brows. If he were smart, he would mutter a quick apology and make a hasty exit, citing bad sushi or a previous engagement, but his lips went dry and all thoughts of staying away from people vanished. He did start furiously throwing up walls, praying he was up to snuff on Occlumency as he tried to keep his heartbeat at an even, steady pace. Badly. 

Standing in front of him, her hair in a messy wild tangle of curls and her arms carrying more books than any single person needed, was the one person Theo could never deny anything. 

“Hello, Hermione.” 


	2. The Black Lake; 1994

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needed to post this before I left for my 4th of July festivities to include in Slytherin Sunday! Eeek! I was so happy to have a reason to start ANOTHER project, specifically a Theomione one! 
> 
> After this, I will go to an updating schedule of once a week! 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the positive responses I got on the first chapter. I'm so psyched to see what you all think of this one!

Hermione huffed, leaning against one of the smaller trees growing near the edge of the Black Lake. Her chest burned, but not as much as her legs. She winced as she shifted her weight; she really should have stretched before starting to run and was paying the price now. 

She was sure her roommates would have had a good laugh about that, Hermione thought with a bitter scowl, reaching up to her ponytail and tugging on the ends to tighten it once again. It had been difficult to find an elastic that fit her hair, and she’d be mightily miffed if this one snapped or came loose. She could just imagine how Lavender would whisper cruel things, as though Hermione couldn’t hear her if Hermione had begun her stretches in the girl’s dormitory or attempted to tame her mane. And once Hermione had gotten outside, it had seemed silly and she’d just done away with taking the time to warm-up. Well, never again, she muttered to herself with a shake of her finger, she’d know that stretching was of utmost importance before attempting a run like she’d begun doing at home!

“Do all Gryffindors talk to themselves, or is that just a Granger thing?” 

Hermione’s hand resting upon the bark slipped off so suddenly that she nearly lost her balance. At once, a hand was gripping her upper arm, steadying her in the muddy slip near the banks. 

“Merlin, I just-,” Hermione began to laugh quietly, looking up, intending to respond to the person, and then perhaps berate them for sneaking up on her. 

She jumped back, her feet stumbling into the first few feet of the cool water, the lake lapping at her ankles. 

“Now, that hurts,” Theodore Nott raised a single eyebrow, watching how Hermione flinched back. 

She was aware of the Slytherin’s existence, at least in her peripheral, as most students were. Though, to be honest, until this moment...Hermione was unsure she’d ever spoken to him, despite sharing classes for the past three years. She couldn’t even truly remember anything outstanding about him. He sat, did his work, snorted with Malfoy, and then went onto his next class. Simple, reliable, like clockwork for three years. She doubted he’d as much looked in her direction, other than by mistake or prompted. 

It went both ways. Theodore, like Stephen Cornfoot or Anthony Goldstein, were just classmates that Hermione sort of forgot existed until something reminded her. 

She would find it hard to forget him now. 

Just as the summer had been kind to Hermione, shaving off the remainder of her baby-fat and coloring her skin a perfect light tan, the break had worked in Theodore’s favor too. While her memories of him had brought forth a weedy, gangly kid that looked too awkward for his long limbs, Hermione could see that his face had begun to thin and he’d had a growth spurt. He’d grown into his large hands. 

Not that Hermione was thinking about that. Rather, she was trying not to think about thinking this. 

He’d grabbed her arm. Intentionally. Knowing who she was. 

“If Malfoy saw you grasp me,” Hermione finally spoke, a waver in her voice, “I’m sure he’d cut your hand off. Now that you’ve sullied it so.” She spoke sharply, the sarcasm and distaste seeping into the warm air. 

Theodore took a step back, which was enough for Hermione to feel safe coming onto the shore again. She took her wand out of her hair, waving a drying spell to her running shoes, keeping one careful eye on Mr. Nott. She was sure as hell wasn’t letting her guard down for the likes of him. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Theodore replied cheekily, something that made Hermione’s cheeks blush. From his slight smirk, he obviously thought it was in some sort of attraction. Instead, she felt angry that he dared to even play this insipid game at all with her! 

She knotted her wand back into her hair. 

“Well, enjoy the rest of your afternoon,” Hermione said stiffly, jogging away. Although tired and sore, putting distance between the pair of them was plenty of encouragement enough. 

Her parents had gotten on this running kick over the summer; something about making their bodies as healthy as their teeth. While Hermione had moaned and complained about it, their rigid insistence that she ran with them every day had turned her into a sort of an athlete. Not a good one, hardly. She wasn’t particularly fast, nor agile or even graceful, but she had begun to enjoy it. 

And, she figured that most years she spent chasing after Harry trying to keep him from getting killed or running from something trying to kill them, being in shape wasn’t going to be the worst thing. 

It was her first day back at Hogwarts for her fourth year. It would be all too easy to let this hard work fall to the wayside, now that her parents weren’t here to be her personal trainers. It had even passed through her mind. That is until she’d woken up to Lavender’s and Parvati’s shrill giggling and gossip. That had been enough to make her need a breather. In the previous years, she’d gone and busied herself with doing Ron or Harry’s homework, but even that seemed like an undertaking right now. The idea of breathing the fresh Scottish air was all too tempting. 

She couldn’t fathom what Theodore was doing by the lake on the first morning back to school. Too early to be collecting supplies. Most everyone else was reconnecting with school chums, playing pick-up matches of Quidditch or lounging in the grass. It was a nice day, but the swimming docks were over on the far other side. 

As she rounded a bend, she saw that Theodore was also jogging. He probably had been before stopping her, she realized, but she’d been so preoccupied with his presence itself to notice the sweat on his skin, a pair of shorts she’d seen Quidditch players practice in, and then a nice sturdy pair of shoes. Not exactly muggle clothes, but Wizard work-out things.

What she was 100% sure of was when she saw him last, he’d been wearing a shirt. He wasn’t now, which is what caused her to double-take. His chest was already starting to form into abs...abs that went on for miles…

Hermione tripped right in front of him. 

“Merlin above,” Theodore stopped, “You alright?” 

Hermione spat out gravel. 

“Fine,” She said curtly, brushing away the dust from her skin, “Just a scrape.” 

“Nothing life-threatening?” He asked. Hermione almost laughed. She started to, a wheezing sound, before snapping her lips closed. 

“I’ll live. I’m sure you’re secretly upset about that.” She said, crossing her arms. When she tried to stand, her ankle twisted sharply. She winced, turning her leg to see the area already swelling. 

“Here, here,” Theodore said, helping her hobble to a bench. 

“Why are you-,” Hermione began once sitting, but then paused, “What...you...you absolute snake.” She spat. 

“Woah, there,” Theodore blinked once, “I think maybe you should be thanking me!” 

“Aha! You do want something!” 

“Yes,” Theodore sounded exasperated, “A ‘thank you’, and perhaps an apology.” 

“Me? Apologize?” Hermione sputtered.

“Well, yeah, you’re being unreasonably rude to me.” 

Hermione stared at him, open-jawed, furious, “ _ Unreasonable? _ ” She echoed, folding her tongue over each syllable like it were thorns, “The likes of you have never given me any reason to trust you, or to like you, or to be nice to you when you’ve only ever made my life here hell!” She would not apologize to him. He was battier than a Lovegood if he thought she was going to be groveling at his feet for being a decent person and helping her to a park bench. Wow, Nott didn’t curse her ankle worse, but instead walked her to a place to sit? He should get a bloody Order of Merlin! 

It was his fecking fault anyway. What was he trying to prove by running shirtless? That he was good looking? That he could distract girls? Well, call both a success, she thought with as much bitterness as she could. 

“Because I’m what...a Slytherin?” Theodore confirmed, his voice cool and even. So much so that Hermione should have known she hit a nerve. 

“Oh, don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” It was almost a compliment, but that’s as much as she’d give him. 

Theodore crossed his arms, locking his jaw. The muscles in his lips twitched. His sea-green eyes, such a color that Hermione had never noticed before, were stormy. Just as choppy and rough looking as the Black Lake behind them. 

“Well, well, Miss Granger,” He began, his voice dripping with- if Hermione didn’t know better- she’d almost call hurt, “I never took you for the type to make the same mistakes as everyone else. Underestimating me comes with a price, dear.” 

Hermione scowled, “Don’t call me dear.” She paused, digesting his words, “What do you mean?” 

“Come now. You’re the most intelligent person in our grade. Dumb doesn’t do you an favors either,” Theodore blocked her completely, her whole vision awash with just him. She glared up at him petulantly. He sighed, his shoulders dropping, “You hate me for the same reasons you hate Draco, or Pansy, or those two dundering idiots, aye?” 

“I thought it clear.” 

“Just confirming,” Theodore said, “So, if we break that down...have I ever personally insulted you? Or anyone you know?” 

Hermione opened her mouth to say, ‘yes, there were these times’, but found herself drawing short. She couldn’t, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist, “I’m sure it’s happened.” 

“You’d remember. We always remember what upsets up more than what pleases us,” Theodore said, which was sound scientific logic, “And, you ever heard me utter the word ‘mudblood’? Besides right now.” He added. 

“Well, no, but-,” 

“Have I ever given you any indication I didn’t like you?” 

Hermione furrowed her brows. Even in class, when they were forced to partner across houses, Theodore hadn’t ever put up a fuss that the other Slytherins had. He’d seem almost pleasant about it, albeit quiet. 

“Do you like me?” Hermione asked in absolute befuddlement. 

Theodore sat down, perhaps no longer afraid Hermione would try to make a break for it. Unlikely, since her foot was smarting like hell. 

“I don’t want you dead,” He said, “And I’ve admired your intelligence,” He said as casually as though they were talking about what was for dinner. 

“Huh,” Was all Hermione could manage, “But you...you’re Malfoy’s friend. And his views are obvious. I’ve never heard you speak out against him.” 

“I’ve known Draco since we were in nappies. I’m a Slytherin, not an idiot. Plus, I know you hate others not doing their own homework, but I’ve seen you let Weasley copy your notes for class.” 

“That’s different,” Hermione stumbled over the words, “This is for a five-point paper. I’m arguing about being a good person.” 

“That’s all relative, though, isn’t it?” Theodore said, waving one hand around, “I’m not going to try to kill you, nor turn you in, but I’m also not going to hand over my own skin on a platter. I’m not a fucking martyr,” He said, “I’d be a Gryffindor if I were.” 

Hermione clenched the edge of the park bench, trying to form an argument. 

“I thought that...out of anyone, you’d notice that I wasn’t like most of my Slytherin compatriots.” Theodore continued. Hermione had the question in the back of her head, as she had for most of this conversation, but it wasn’t until now she managed to speak it. 

“To what end?” 

Theodore blinked, as though he had not asked this of himself at all. It was the first moment of unsureness on his part. Hermione saw his face shift, his handsome features changing ever so slightly. In this morning light, he was backlit by the sun, and perhaps she was thirsty and starting to hallucinate or maybe he had her under some sort of spell, but her stomach was starting to flop around. Her fingers started to turn sweaty. Her heart raced, despite sitting unmoving, and her mind very much enjoyed the moments her eyes slipped down to his chest, and lower still. 

“I think I’m just tired of it all,” Theodore said finally. 

“Of what?” 

“You know,” Theodore said simply. Deep down, Hermione did, “And I thought maybe, if I were to show you kindness, some sort I could...well, it didn’t work. I’m sorry for startling you. Twice.” 

Hermione nearly cried out, asking him to stay. She bit her lip hard, trying to squish down the feelings that were starting to grow, taking root. This was not what she needed right now, or any time, to be honest. 

“It’s fine. I’m sorry too. And thank you.” 

Theodore crossed his arms, “I’ll take what I can get. Want help back to the castle?” 

“And let everyone see?” Hermione whispered, “You are still a Slytherin, Theodore.” 

“We’re good liars. I’d think of something.” Theodore said, “And, just Theo.” 

“Right. Theo.” It felt strange to be referring to a Slytherin by something other than his last name, not that she’d be casually talking to him like this in class, “But, I’ll make it back. I might just sit here a bit.” 

Theo inclined his head, getting up to jog off again.

“Wait!” Hermione stopped him, “What was that price you were talking about?” 

Theo looked at her strangely, then laughed, “Oh, don’t worry about that. Have a good day, Hermione. I’ll see you around.” 

Call her crazy, but Hermione knew he meant all of it. His words made her heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings, frantically trapped in her rib-cage. 

Great Godric, he’d gone and made a mess of things now, hadn’t he? 

Nott, Theodore, Theo...what an enigma. 


	3. Muggle Paris; 2004

Hermione’s heart thumped. She felt her fingered clutching her books grow sweaty and clammy as she flexed her grip on them. Theodore looked just as handsome as ever, his sharp jawline like a painting from the Louvre, his sea-green eyes boring into her like she was an Arithmancy problem he was desperately trying to unravel. His hair was shorter than the last time she’d seen him and he’d gotten glasses. While Harry’s always made him fade into the background, Theo’s were expertly picked out to higher his already very aristocratic features. That with his billow robes and well-groomed hair made him look like he’d stepped out of an advertisement. 

If Hermione had someone been able to know that today, of all days, she’d run into Theo, she would have worn something else. As it was, she was in a ratty pair of jeans and a t-shirt she’d already spilled coffee on, and frankly, she’d been too tired to do any makeup or put her hair up nicely, so it hung in untamed tendrils around her cheeks. 

Eleven months of cohabitations the same unfamiliar city, in a different country at that, and she finds him of all places in Muggle Paris. The odds seemed astronomical. 

She could feel the blush that was creeping over her entire body, blazing upon her cheeks. For a couple of seconds, she just stood there, exhaling out, unsure of what to say next. 

“It’s been awhile.” 

Theo licked his lips, his jaw clenched as he nodded. Still, a quiet hiss slipped out. 

“Nearly a year.” That was so imprecise, but after a second, after a soft groan, Theo added, “Ten months, two weeks, three days.” 

Her breath took in sharply. She’d known this, but the fact he’d been counting too...no, she couldn’t get her hopes up. Perhaps he just had a good memory with specific dates? 

Hermione bit her lip, “What are you doing here?” 

“I told you I’d be in Paris awhile,” Theo said. He seemed to be in pain. His words were strained and there was a hardness, preciseness that Hermione didn’t recall. Did he know she’d been trying to avoid him, while also hoping to see him? Did he finally see it, after all those years, had he figured out how she really felt? “The potions lab, I-,” For some reason, Theo seemed to be having difficulty, so Hermione cut him off, sparing him whatever was ailing him. 

“No, yeah, I know,” Hermione stumbled over whatever he might have said next, “The shop, yes. I take it it’s doing well? I was asking about here-here. As in on this street.” 

She didn’t actually have to ask how his shop was dong; she knew well enough. She hadn’t allowed herself to step forth in, but she kept very aware of its success through the gossip of others. She always longed to hear his name, hear a hint of an update. 

“It is. We’ve had many commissions from important people; the French Ministry in particular, and then there’s the regular crowd who seem to enjoy what we have to offer. We work hard to make this, well, worth it.” He paused a long moment, and she could see his fists clenching through his pockets, “I’m walking home.” 

“Oh! Well, it’s a nice day. I see you’re partaking in the Muggle grandeur,” She said, waving. Theo’s lip almost twitched into a smile, but she felt stupid. She’d put a joking tone into it, but even still, it hadn’t been a good joke. It had just seemed to fall from her lips. Whenever he was around, she always ended up talking too much, saying more than she’d wanted. Overplaying her hand. However, it seemed that Theo was talking far more than usual. For most of the time she’d known him, he’d been extremely reserved. She was far too embarrassed about her own loose lips to consider this fully, however. 

As it was, right now, her whole body was shaking and she could feel how warm her cheeks had turned. The familiar feeling of something uncomfortable and wonderful was twisting her stomach in knots, as she wanted on bated breath for his next words. She hadn’t felt these sort of uncomfortable flutters in, Merlin, years. At least not with anyone but him. 

Always him. 

“I was just coming from the bookstore, but I’m sure you can see that. I’m working with children right now, at a school, I think I told you that I was considering a professorship. Hogwarts has no openings, but Beauxbatons has been owling me...” She trailed off. Theo gave a swift nod, his lips still closed tightly. 

“Right, yes. Well, I wanted to teach at Hogwarts, or somewhere comparable, but I was offered this job and it was good money, so there I went, as it were,” She continued to ramble. If Theo wasn’t saying much, Hermione would fill the space. She was terrified of what she’d do with open air and silence, “Although it’s much younger than I’m used to.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, like... five-year-olds,” Hermione said, “Not that they’re not adorable but-,” 

“Yeah,” Theo flashed a quick smile, looking down. Hermione quieted. He’d always...understood her without having to say much. She wished he was as easy to read. She wished she could dive deep into his brain, know what he thought of her. Even now, his eyes seemed glazed and distant, like he was a thousand miles away from this conversation. Or, trying to be, because she’d see moments where he’d resurface and his whole body would quiver. 

“But it’s...good. Lots of work. Want to do it right. Thus the books,” She patted the top of her pile like it was a cat, “But, oh, enough about me...Draco still in Paris?” 

“Sometimes,” The words came out quickly, “He splits his time between here and Scotland, where Luna’s living. Bloody keeps me up at all hours, flooing her to talk. He’s obsessed. Talks about her all the time.” 

“Oh! Yes, of course,” Stupid, since Hermione knew that Draco took an international portkey back to Luna at least twice a week. Whenever Theo was around, her brain seemed to fizzle out, “You know, she thinks he’s going to propose soon,” She said. 

“He is, has the ring. It’s big. Pretty…” Theo choked back, like his throat was dry, “It’s just, it’s pretty, I guess.” 

She looked at her feet. She wished it hadn’t turned into dating territory. A part of Hermione knew she’d be heartbroken if Theo said he was dating someone, which was terribly unfair of her. She looked at her book pile, unable to meet his gaze as she spoke her next words. 

“Me and Ron are still together,” She whispered, “Ginny and Harry got married last summer, so now everyone’s turned to us, wondering when we’ll get married.” She noticed Theodore’s head snapped up, but she couldn’t look at his face, “I mean, it seems...inevitable, after seven years and all. I don’t need to rush into it, I don’t, but everyone keeps asking and-,” 

“You’re wasted on Ron,” Theodore said, his voice unusually rough like he’d tried to hold it back. This got her attention. She lifted her head slowly, halfway believing she’d heard him wrong, “You deserve so much better, Hermione, Merlin! I’m sure you’re a fine couple but...you…” He bit his lip down, as though bottling up his words right at the tip of his tongue, “I don’t get why you’re with him.” 

“As opposed to who?” Hermione’s voice shook. Had he not spoken first, she doubted she’d ever had the courage to offer up her soft question, “Someone like…” She couldn’t finish it, terrified she was misreading all of it, and he was just looking out for her like a good friend. 

“Fucking bloody Merlin,” Theo cussed, his shoulders shaking and his expression nearly pained, “Someone like me.” 

Hermione felt her heart stop. 

10 years (well, 9.75, if one wanted to get technical), nearly a full decade, of pining over Theodore Nott. 10 years of attempting to interpret his smiles and words and dissecting every conversation. 10 years of foolishly hoping, but knowing that it was probably just what she wanted. 10 years of arguing with herself in the dead of night, half-begging for some god to release her from this madness, and half-praying to never let herself stop loving him. 

10 years leading up to this single moment. 

The books clattered onto the sidewalk all at once, like a roaring thunderclap. Hermione kicked them aside as she placed her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down into a searing kiss. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, a little short, but these were always just going to be little moments, if you will, to make up the bigger picture. On the plus side, that means that I will absolutely be able to update weekly on schedule since I have MOST of the story already written! Other chapters may end up being longer, like I know I have one planned that so far is about 6 pages, probably will be 7/8 with edits...  
> Hope you all enjoy!


	4. An Empty Classroom; 1994

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad everyone is enjoying this! The world needs more Theomione stories, and I will continue writing them to bolster this fandom if I have to ;)

The girls coalesced in an empty classroom, taking a break from practicing their dancing. With the Yule Ball approaching with at an alarming pace, the weight to dance perfectly and gracefully was weighing hard on most girl’s shoulders. Casual dancing was one thing, but actual choreographed dancing was something most girls had never had to experience. The boys may be joking about this whole affair, but the girls made up for this nonchalance and then some. 

“My mom said she took classes for six years and still couldn’t do the waltz right,” Susan Bones bemoaned as they hurried to the meeting space after Care of Magical Creatures. 

“Maybe you just have two left feet,” Lavender teased, in a near-friendly way. 

Still, the Yule Ball would be filled with complicated, old dance moves that Hermione didn’t care at all to learn. 

Yet she still showed up to the dance practice room, ever since Viktor had asked her so sweetly. 

She wished she were more excited about it. She should have been over the moon. A considerate, intelligent, celebrity had asked her- Hermione Granger- to a ball, out of any other girl in the world. If anything, it gave her ego a must needed boost.

And trust her, she’d tried to encourage herself towards excitement. She tried to look at his features and imagine herself falling in love with him. She’d spent the nights going over his words to her in the library, picking through them to remind herself of all the good qualities he held. That she’d be smart to enjoy this while it lasted. 

But whenever her mind wandered freely, it always came back to Theo. 

The boy who she’d never noticed was now always in her sightline. She was hyper-aware of every moment he made; from shuffling his parchment, to dropping a splatter of ink from his quill, to flipping the pages of his book. Nott- no, Theo- was creeping into her thoughts far too often for her liking. 

Most irritatingly, it’s not as though he was doing anything. He was the same Theo that had existed before their meeting down by the Black Lake. Frustratingly unchanged. It was Hermione who had changed, who was now always looking for him, always thinking about him. 

Theo had not tried to seek her out in any way again. She’d laid into him pretty good, she admitted. She couldn’t help but feel...disappointed. For as much as she tried to get Harry to stop bad-mouthing Malfoy, the first time a Slytherin had offered her friendship, she’d rebuked it. She’d been so convinced she knew exactly what sort of a person he was that she might have missed out on something great. 

She got the feeling he only gave his offer once, and she’d foolishly thrown it back at him. 

Theo wasn’t what she expected at all. He was as friendly as a Slytherin could be. It seemed that most of his fellow snakes talked easily to him, stopping by his desk to ask for help with a question or just to chat. He wasn’t throwing himself into the spotlight like Pansy or Draco always were, but he wasn’t hiding in the shadows. His influence was much more natural than Draco’s was. It was clear that while Draco may publically hold the Slytherins, Theo did in every other way. Most of the girls in his house fawned over him, the boys got along well with him. He had the whole Slytherin house at his fingers, and almost unbelievably, he was kind. Kind to them. Not like Draco and Pansy, once again, who sometimes secured their position with harsh words, Theo was offering quiet kind ones. 

It happened more than once that Hermione wondered what sort of encouragement he would have lauded over her, had he given her a chance. 

No, she thought, locking her jaw...she had Viktor for that now, didn’t she? 

But Theo, great Merlin, Theo...

He was an intriguing mix of athletic and intelligent. She hadn’t even realized he was on the Quidditch team until she’d watched the first Gryffindor versus Slytherin match. Perhaps there was something to be said about an intelligence for a very strategic game; she spent most of her time watching him instead of Harry, trying to commit to memory the changes to his face as he surveyed the pitch, how his fingers tightened and untightened on the broom when he was considering a choice, and how whenever he was in a tough spot, he’d card his fingers through his brown hair. She knew that one day someone would catch her openly watching him, and she knew that should just stop, but every match and practice that she studied him, she found another tic of his, another something that drew her in even more. She wanted to understand him, know him, soak up every outward fact about him in the same way that he surveyed the Quidditch pitch with such cataloging memorization. 

He was just as methodical in class. 

Hermione knew Draco was the second in the class behind her, but she’d never given much thought to who was third. She’d bet all her galleons that it was Theo. 

Theo, Theo, Theo. Hermione felt like she was losing her mind over this stupid, ill-timed crush. She’d come to terms that this is what it was; a puppy-dog infatuation. She knew it too, but couldn’t shake it.

So, perhaps it was for the best he wasn’t trying to catch her attention in class or send her notes. It would be more than her poor heart could handle, and she was already trying to nip this in the bud. Plus, if Harry and Ron knew that she thought about him with such intensity, they’d think her barmy. She didn’t want to admit it outright, but sometimes she thought she was too. There was no reason at all that a Slytherin deserved to be taking up so much of her headspace. 

Hermione curled her legs up onto the chair, adjusting her position. She wasn’t partaking in the actual dance lessons- Viktor was teaching her- but she still liked to come. Like reading a book, seeing it play over and over in front of her would only help. Plus, it was a sure-fire place where there was no Theo. If she went to the library, she risked running into him studying (at the table near the section on potions, she had realized). If she went to the Great Hall, he might be partaking in a midday snack while perusing a new book. If she went outside, she might be haunted by the memory of his heaving, shirtless chest and his warm sea-green eyes…

Hermione bit her lip hard to knock herself from her fantasy. 

As the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws meandered over to the water table (no Slytherins, none had dared come to any practices), Hermione stretched out her arms. Ginny encouraged her to move a couple of rows down, closer to the gathering group. The ginger’s smile was warm and even Lavender only gave her a once-over as Hermione ambled over the chairs. 

The topic for this break had begun as something innocuous; she was pretty sure that it started with makeup, which segued into the hottest gossip (“Did you  _ hear  _ that Lisa Moon got asked by Michael Corner?”). After that, it all went downhill. 

Hermione wasn’t interested much in their conversations. However, Ginny had momentarily left to grab a drink of water, and although Hermione was trying extremely hard to read, she couldn’t help but be distracted by the next jump in topics. 

“Oh, Lis should have a good time with him,” Padma giggled coquettishly, “I hear that he has a…” She blushed, “Well, you all know.” 

Hermione glanced over her page just in time to see Padma make a motion with her hands that sent all the girls into laughter and blushed their cheeks a ruddy shade. 

“How would you know, Pads?” Parvati teased her sister. 

“I’ve just heard things!” Padma stuttered out. 

“Well I’ve heard that the boys know who’s got the largest wand if you catch my drift,” Faye Dunbar said, “And, well, I might have gotten that information about it too.” 

It was unmistakable what they were talking about now. 

As though Hermione was a crotchety old maid, at least three eyes turned to her, waiting for her to snip at them. Did they want to be berated? Is that what they were waiting for? 

“It’s not polite to talk about such things,” Hermione fibbed quickly, just because she got the acute feeling that they wanted her to be her usual self, if only because it made gossip so much more interesting. 

Honestly, though, Hermione was curious. 

She had just about gotten to the age where boys (read; urg,  _ Theo _ ) had moved from one non-sexual, cooties and hand-holding box to a very adult one. Hermione had known about the reproductive process since she’d left for Hogwarts, but only recently has it started to sound appealing. 

She was starting to have dreams that left her uncomfortable and sticky the next morning. She very rarely recalled who it was, or what exactly was happening in the dream, but when she did remember, it was always Theodore’s face.

Damn him to hell, because he just had to go and make her life bloody difficult, didn’t he? 

She wished it could be anyone else who walked in her dreams. Even Harry would have been preferable to a snake she still wasn’t sure she could trust but knew definitely she couldn't have. 

So, despite her quickly spoken disapproval, Hermione listened. She wasn’t even attempting to read the words on the page anymore. 

“How do you know that they know? Think they just got them all out and compared one day?” Morag said, a hint of doubt. 

Lavender snorted, “Yeah, I do, considering they’ve been doing that with actual wands since first year!” 

The girls giggled into their hands, sharing wild looks. 

“Corner is up there, true,” Faye jumped back in smoothly, “But he’s only the third-largest in our class. I suppose I don’t know for the other grades,” She tapped her chin, thinking, “But second largest is Ernie-,” 

“Well have you seen the size of his feet?” Susan fanned herself, “I knew what they always said is true! And his hands.” She shivered, and Hermione did not think it was because she was cold. A couple of other girls made hums of agreement, but most shushed her, looking up at Faye like she was a shepherd leading them to the pasture to graze.

“-But the absolute largest,” Faye began with a wicked smile, “No lie, is that quiet Slytherin...Teddy Nott or Thomas Nott or something-,” 

There were a couple of confused looks, as though the girls were trying to recall who that was. Hermione shouldn’t have said anything, but it was as though her mind and lips were disconnected. They were talking about Theodore,  _ her  _ Theo. Well, not hers, great Godric, but sorta insomuch as that she doubted Theo had ever opened up to any other non-Slytherin the way he’d attempted with her. 

“Theodore. You mean, Theo-Theodore,” Hermione breathed out all at once before she could stop herself. 

Faye snapped her fingers, “Yes, _Theodore_ Nott.” 

The girls lost it, the classroom a cacophony of raucous purs and very loud whispers. 

Hermione felt her stomach drop, then fly up again. It was the oddest feeling, like she was on a rollercoaster, though she hadn’t moved an inch in her seat. 

“Are you sure?” Lavender asked, squinting at Faye, “It would be just like a Slytherin to spread lies about his ego,” She asked, which was exactly what Hermione should have been questioning. It was actually sound logic. Who knew Lavender was capable of that, and a logical query that Hermione hadn’t even begun to think to top it off! Yes, Theodore was most certainly messing with her intelligence...maybe that’s what he wanted? She doubted it. He might have some game, but he’d seemed so...so...genuine. 

“I would think so,” Faye began, “But I heard it right from Stephen Cornfoot, who  _ saw  _ it. Hung like a bloody hippogriff.” 

Hermione got up, her chair clattering.

“I need to...it’s…” Hermione felt a little dizzy, a little faint. She grasped her book, shaking as she fled the room. As she stumbled into the cool air of the hallway, she heard Lavender give a ‘humph’. 

“Leave it to Prissy Granger to not be able to hear about a man, Merlin forbid. She probably thinks it’s just garden gnomes down there or something!” 

She didn’t want to hear anymore, not of Theodore and not what Lavender had to think about her.

Hermione found an alcove not far from the room, and her legs like jelly had her sliding down to the floor, a flare of arousal and the absolute  _ need  _ for Theodore overwhelming her. It felt like she was on fire, it was burning everywhere. 

Let her, Hermione decided with a hardened edge, let Lavender think she was leaving because she was too scandalized. It was far better for them to think that than the truth; Hermione craved Theo possibly more than she’d ever craved anything else before. 


	5. Muggle Paris; 2004 (2)

Theodore Nott was in hell. 

He couldn’t count the days he’d spent wishing on coins tossed in fountains or on stars blazing across the sky that he might accidentally run into Hermione Granger in Paris, and then have a reason to talk to her again. He couldn’t count the days he’d spent cursing himself for being a coward but knowing she was untouchable while dating that ginger idiot. He couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he wanted to tell her the reason he’d encouraged Draco to Paris was that he knew she was there, and he thought that they may cross paths occasionally enough to satiate his ever-growing desire for her. 

If only she knew Paris was all for  _ her _ . 

After the war, he and Draco had been released of most of their accused war crimes, due to their young age and both of their behind-the-scenes efforts to topple Lord Voldemort’s reign from the inside. Not every kid inducted into the Death Eaters got out; it wasn’t like the Ministry was feeling bad and sorry for all of them, patting their head sand offering them pumpkin juice. Rather, Theo was quite sure the Ministry would have loved to make an example of them, lock up all the kids who fucked up their lives super young as a warning, never let them see the light of society again. Merlin knows that Goyle likely wishes he’d died with Crabbe in the Great Battle, considering that he was going to be lucky if he saw a lick of sunlight from Azkaban ever again. And Pansy, who hadn’t been an awful bird in their youth (annoying as hell, sure, but fine), who had made all the wrong choices for Draco, who would never love her back. She hadn’t realized all of Draco’s hesitations, hadn’t seen the doubt cloud his face, or how he was really only ever loyal to his mother. And she’d paid the price for it. After her sentencing went through, a life-time in Azkaban with maybe parole after sixty years, she’d turned an Auror’s wand on herself. Since it wasn’t her own, it hadn’t cast right, but it had done the job.

Pucey had told him it had been bloody, and perhaps the worst thing he’d seen since the war began. Theo didn’t ask any more questions about it. He did not need to know, did not want to know. 

So yes, they’d been exhumed of their past selves, shoved out into the sun with a year’s worth of probation at Hogwarts to finish up their last year properly, told they were free, but all the while were being watched for any sort of infraction. Theo was almost sure if he’d sneezed the wrong way, someone would have been hauling him back to Azkaban for ‘disturbing the peace’. 

The only choice they had was to go into something together. A potion shop, since the last one in Hogsmeade had been destroyed, was a good choice.

But it had been hard work. It had been grueling those first couple months out of Hogwarts. Had it not been for Headmistress McGonagall’s stamp of approval on the two wayward Slytherins, along with a starting gift for graduating (both of their fortunes had been all but seized by the Ministry with little hope of ever returning to them), they probably would have failed.

Their potions were lauded for their success, but the brewers were examined harshly in England. 

But it didn’t matter. The level of mastery of their items had already caught the attention of many foreign Ministries and business mongers. By the next turn of the year, they had offers to expand their brand outward. 

What did any of them have left in England? Draco hadn’t been dating Luna at that time, and Hermione had been out of the country for a bit too. It seemed the only thing that England was offering were catty, hypocritical jerks who somehow didn’t understand that prejudice and hate against someone was  _ exactly  _ how the all the worst Wizarding wars had begun. 

Their offers had been plentiful. As soon as they’d secured intelligent people to mind the shop in Hogsmeade, they’d begun to examine these carefully. America, France, Egypt, Romania, and Russia were all sending owls regularly to the shop. Draco had been partial to Romania originally, as he experimented especially in Dragon’s blood, and obviously, he’d have a lot to work with there. However, it had been Theo that had persuaded their first abroad shop to open in Paris. 

He’d reminded Draco that Paris was his family history, albeit pretty far back. He also told Draco that the French Ministry was offering them galleons upon galleons, plus their renown was beginning to reach the circles there. It wouldn’t be long before they were filling back up their accounts with their own hard-earned money. By the time that they had been really set on making a choice, Draco had started a relationship with Luna, and this had been the last thing to drag Draco to Theo’s choice. It was far easier to hop from France back to England than from Romania. 

For Theo, it had always been France.

He had remembered the night in the Astronomy Tower where he’d been so close to kissing Hermione, nearly doing something he knew was wrong. He’d been trying to be so good that year. The old Theo may have. This Theo, given a second chance at life, couldn’t. 

But she’d talked so vibrantly about her love of France and the beaches there. How some of her happiest memories had been with her parents on the shores, and walking around Normandy or stopping in Eze. She had been so descriptive with her memories that Theo could almost taste the salty air, or smell the spices at the market, or see the ivy crawling up the Parisian townhouses. 

He couldn’t be sure Hermione was there, but she wasn’t in England. 

He had to try. 

When he had heard through a friend of a friend that Hermione was indeed living here, Theo had felt so relieved in his choice. It had felt like things were finally lining up for him, for them maybe. 

But then he hadn’t run into her for nearly a year and his hundreds of drafts of letters had been unsent. 

He recalled when both he and Draco had heard the news.

“Granger’s here?” Draco’s eyebrows had risen, “Theo, did you know this, mate?” It had sounded casual enough, but Draco’s eyes had turned a shade of gray that appeared when something was clicking in his brain.

“I hadn’t.” 

By now, Draco knew when his friend was lying, but also telling the truth. Same as Theo did for him.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence,” He’d snorted, “You’re bloody impossible, Nott. A goddamn romantic.” He’d gagged in his mouth, “I need to go wash out my mind with some bleach now. Bloody Granger...can’t seem to get away from those three Gryffindors…” He’d left back into the shop, muttering sourly. 

Up until then, Theo hadn’t thought that of himself. Romantic. He wasn’t writing love poetry to her, or sending her bushels of roses the same color as her cheeks when she was embarrassed, or planning some grand way to confess his feelings. But when put into perspective that he’d moved  _ countries  _ basically following a girl on a conversation that had happened nearly five years ago, maybe it was so.

He’d practiced what he’d say to her in the shower, trying to conceive every angle when they did inevitably run into each other again so that nothing was left up to chance. He had felt he had prepared for everything. Except this, of course.

And now, the singular day that he had come across her, he wanted to be anywhere else. 

Not because she was boring him. There was something endearing with the way she just talked and talked like she had at Hogwarts. He watched as her fingers twitched on the book covers. He saw how her whole face turned red and tried to memorize the freckles across her nose from the warm Parisian sun and how her hair looked effort as it tumbled around her shoulder blades. He tried to scan up and down her body as covertly as possible, knowing that it may be months again before this happened. There were a lot of ways in which she reminded him of the Granger from Hogwarts, which did nothing to keep him from growing half-hard. He wasn’t that bloody sweet, okay? Yes, he wanted her mind and her heart, but he also wanted her body. 

He clenched his hands. Fuck, he couldn’t think about that now, not unless he wanted that to be said all at once. It was so difficult though since he couldn’t keep his eyes off her as he mentally chartered her, marked the differences and compared it to his last meeting with her. 

But Merlin, how badly he needed to keep his mouth shut and his walls up. 

He steeled himself. He’d done this in the war. It was the only way he’d managed to fence both of the sides. Shove away parts of his mind behind walls so when Voldemort decided to go on a little mind-reading spree, the poison he was slowly releasing into the maniac’s ranks were undetectable. A lesser Occulmens would have failed. Tortured and destroyed. Luckily, he was not a lesser wizard.

He was so bloody grateful that this potion had been created by him and Draco after Lord Voldemort had fallen because no one would have been able to resist this. 

He could feel the words begging to be released, like a grenade detonated on his tongue, how firmly he kept his lips together. He felt tired from the physical exertion of suppressing the potion inside him. The harder he fought, the dizzier he became. There would become a point where his own determination in refusing to speak would tire him out and then the words would spill out anyway.

He needed to remember this since that was important to note of. He tried to think about how long he could keep this up. If he sat and talked with her more, surely, he’d say something he didn’t mean to. It wasn’t a sense of ‘if’ but ‘when’, that is unless he could very reluctantly peel himself away from Hermione and their currently one-sided conversation. 

If he spoke freely, she may be overwhelmed. 

In all his plans, he revealed his feelings to her tactfully, hopefully, after some sign from here, it was mutual. He was a Slytherin; he wasn’t going to cut open his own heart to hear her pity. He’d rather watch her quietly from the sidelines, unconfirmed, than have his own hopes shattered. 

She’d only ever been friendly toward him. He was stupid to think that her friendship meant anything more than exactly that. She didn’t deserve his complete and rather passionate declarations, not when he suspected her and Ron were together. 

Even thinking of Ron made his blood boil and threatened his seal on his lips. 

He tried to keep his answers as succinct as possible. He hoped it was working. 

“Ron and I are still together,” Hermione said. She sounded almost forlorn. She was looking at the ground. Theodore had been gritting his teeth, focusing on a sad-looking shrubbery up until this point. He couldn’t help it. This was his number one hot-button, the singular thing that riled him up more than anything else. Whenever anyone talked about how ‘adorable’ or how ‘meant-to-be’ Ron and Hermione were (and people did; they were heroes, celebrities now. He couldn’t open a Prophet page without someone writing something about one of them), he wanted to seriously knock some sense into someone. Non-violently, of course, per his promise to the Ministry. He was reformed now, duh.

But the point still stood. Anyone who thought their relationship was anything more than a lukewarm disaster needed to have their whole body checked; vision, mind, ears, even their bloody noses. Everything about this pair seemed so wrong to Theo, and not just because he wanted Hermione. The last time he’d run into someone who was gushing about them in person, it had taken Draco tugging firmly on his robes and Apparating them away to stop Theo from punching them. 

Hermione should live with a wizard who worshipped her, as he did. He felt the warm fuzzies spreading, raising his hair on his arms as he thought about how he wanted every part of her. As soon as he realized he was thinking of that, he switched his mind to recite more potion recipes. He distracted himself from Hermione, no small feat. As it was, the way she was hesitant biting her lip was making him hard. 

Then she talked about getting  _ married  _ to him. 

Theo knew, sorta-kinda, that Hermione was off-limits because she was dating someone else. But marrying them? That took her out completely, and somewhere deep inside, his composure snapped. 

“You’re wasted on Ron.” He didn’t know where his thoughts began and his words ended, but from the widened-eye look on Hermione’s face, he’d spoken out loud. Shit. And now that he had started on this, as Draco often rolled his eyes about, it was impossible to stop, “You deserve so much better, Hermione. Merlin! I’m sure you’re a fine couple,” Salazar, did that lie take basically everything he had to force out instead of saying ‘you two make a dementor and Umbridge seem like a sweet love story’, but hey, he’d done it, “But...you…” He had tried to keep his thoughts down, but his mini-lie had taken all his walls down, “I don’t get why you’re with him.” 

She deserved the world, Merlin! He was sure that there was something about them that was appealing, because otherwise why would they be together, but he didn’t understand why she was with him. It drove him mad, nights spent trying to figure this out. 

He didn’t know what he was saying all at once and what was his personal thoughts. Didn’t matter, not now probably. He’d said too much with his first comment. It was done. The damage was done. 

So he thought. 

“As opposed to who? Someone like…” 

He knew what the end of the question was. It didn’t take a genius, but more than that, it was the intensity in which she was looking at him. 

If he hadn’t been under the effects of the potion, he wouldn’t have said his next words. He probably wouldn’t have said anything at all, just seethed about the woman he couldn’t have and the fact she was with someone who didn’t love her how she ought to be. He’d go home and think of Hermione as he rubbed one out, cursing his life and wishing he’d made a move before. He probably would have muttered something incoherent, apologized, and made a hasty exit right now. He might have told Hermione to forget this conversation. 

But the potion fried his good sense and compelled him to confess. 

Oh, did he try not to. He felt his body shake and his head float. He thought he was about a second away from passing out. When he sniffed, he tasted blood on the back of his tongue, telling him that he was seconds away from a nosebleed. He was going to smack his head on the pavement as he collapsed ungracefully in roughly about two seconds if he didn’t let go a little.

“Fucking bloody Merlin,” He exhaled, realizing his options were (a) faint. Seemed like a way to get out a conversation. Not a good way, but  _ a  _ way; (b) cite some fake emergency and pop away right now, which was probably the smartest...and he might have had the strength to do if there wasn’t such hope he saw in his eyes. Merlin, he hoped he wasn’t imagining it, or choice (c )...let go. The choice was made for him, and there was a part of him relieved, “Someone like me.” 

Hermione dropped her books like her arms had lost their bones. Just as he was about to offer to help pick them up, Hermione was inches away from him. She put her hands up, and at first, Theo was sure she was going to slap him like she'd done with Malfoy when they were children.

Instead, she kissed him. 

And fucking hell, Theo wasn’t an idiot. He kissed back. 

It only took a moment for his fingers to catch up with is brain as he dragged her closer. She wobbled on the books, so Theo pushed her back. Back against the sooty and old wall of a street building, pressing up against her without leaving an inch of air. Hermione’s fingers were at his nape, tugging and scratching, as Theo’s hands slid down her waist to her bottom. 

Not violently, but also not sweetly or tenderly, he jerked her knees apart to press in between her. He slotted his leg between her thighs, rutting up for that friction that he needed. He kissed her possessively, almost angrily. 

They’d had years of unresolved sexual tension that lead up to this and Theo needed this release. They’d have so much time later for sweet adoring kisses, Theo told himself. Right now, he just wanted to feel her. He wanted to consume her, hoping that she would understand that this is how Theo had felt for the past ten years. More than that, nearly eleven for him, since he’d decided somewhere mid-second year to try and gain her friendship. He wanted Hermione to be gasping for air, head barely above water. He wanted to pour all the things he had burned away in his letters, never sent, his nighttime rambles and waxings about how he’d love her so right, if she’d only let him. 

Hermione was clawing back at him. 

This was so much better than his dreams. 

Theo couldn’t have stopped his actions if he tried. Somewhere, in the logic-based superego part of his mind- ever the scholar- he wondered if the potion was affecting his hands, his motions? If he had lost all control of his body, falling deeply within his baser instincts. He probably would have kissed her, sure, but all the rest of what he was doing he wouldn’t have dared to do right now, right here. Superego was quickly taken out back and shot dead by Id while ego popped popcorn and pressed Theo on. Pressed him against, actually. 

As it was, he honestly forgot where ‘right now’ and ‘right here’ was. 

The world was just Hermione to him. Hermione, and her curly hair. Hermione, and those little gasps she made. Hermione, and her body and how perfect it fit against his. Hermione, Hermione, Hermione. 

Theo took like a victor of Rome, hoarding his treasure without restraint or thought. It was all impulse, all hot blood racing through his veins, congregating all in one spot. 

Theo pushed Hermione up the wall, enough so that her toes were off the ground for a second. Perfectly timed as clockwork, Theo dropped his palms to her behind, hiking her up onto his waist, using the sturdiness of the wall and his own strength to keep her suspended between. Hermione’s legs twined around his back to give him better leverage, entrusting herself in his arms that he wouldn’t let her fall.

Theo bit her lip, sharp enough to cause a little pain, but knew that there would be pleasure with it too. He loved to ride that edge and wondered if Hermione would as well. From the sound in the bottom of her throat, he was pleased to see it was so. He licked at the spot, a tang of copper coating his mouth. He’d broken skin, but knew it would heal quickly.

The position they were in was so much better, at least in his opinion. It put Hermione exactly where he most wanted her; their hips connecting. Yes, there were many layers between them, two pairs of pants at the very least. Still, it was enough so that he could feel the warmth and he was  _ sure  _ she could feel him. From the frantic movement of her hips, the need for the friction just in the right way, he knew. 

Dirty thoughts invaded his mind. The urge to find a way to have her now. 

Just as his fingers were trailing on the edge of her waistband and trying to pop the buttons on her jeans, a car honked. They jumped away, realizing they were on a public street. 

Hermione’s whole face was almost purple, flushed with a mixture of embarrassment, desire, and shock. She was panting, her lips swollen and hair even more mussed. She wiped her bottom lip, her body shaking as he saw her clicking together the chain of events that had just happened. 

Before he could say anything, Hermione panicked and apparated away in broad Muggle daylight, leaving Theo surrounded by abandoned books in the streets of Paris. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of you were quite surprised I had this happen so quickly, this kiss and all! Even if that's true, there's still a long road before they get together, so we still have plenty of 'now' chapters left, and of course all the flashback chapters ;) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!


	6. Classroom of Ancient Runes; 1998

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes, yes! I'm still writing this story XD Sometimes, you just need to step back from it for a second to get the urge to continue!

_Back Room of Ancient Rune Classroom; 1998_

Hermione had to re-read a sentence three times before marking it with a red-inked quill. True, the student's work was atrocious, but that was only partially responsible for Hermione's absolute lack of attention.

Sitting next to her, perching on the arm of that bumpy and rather uncomfortable couch, sat Theo. He was grading his own stack with a type of concentration he gave to everything he found worth it. He was chewing on the top of his quill. For someone who usually assured everything was neat and precise, he'd turned the top feathers into a sad looking mess with his absent-minded gnawing.

She tucked it away into the ever-growing 'Theodore Nott' file that was in her brain under lock and key.

While she couldn't say the past three or so years had given her and Theo ample time to talk, Hermione was always watching. She'd started to garner quite the little treasure trove of information on him.

He enjoyed cooking, which was hardly a surprise. Potions and cooking were just magically one degree of separation away from each other. He enjoyed it as an amateur hobby, and Hermione had heard rumors he was quite good. He hated coffee and preferred tea. In fact, he preferred tea over any other drink around. He liked to travel, but his favorite spot was Spain. His family used to go there every summer. He had a worn copy of Lord of the Rings that he carried with him, and it was his favorite book series.

Like little drops in a rainfall of the storm that was Theodore Nott, Hermione always found herself trying to drench herself in this knowledge.

She was sure she had figured out what the price was. Oh, she was half-sure that Theo was just messing around or that whatever plans he'd had fallen through. However, there was perhaps an unexpected turn of events. Hermione's unending fascination with him. If she hadn't checked four times, she'd be sure she was hit with some sort of charm or love potion!

Hermione had been completely entranced with Theodore Nott for the better part of four years at this point. She'd found her gaze always drawn to his, always watching whenever she was drifting off. He went from being a boy she hardly noticed to a boy she saw everywhere. She watched his kindness, his preciseness, his intelligence, and his quietness and somewhere along the way realized she'd fallen in love with him, despite very few conversations.

The arrival of 5th year had been tumultuous, as she and Harry had created Dumbledore's Army. She hadn't found any good reasons to talk to him then, and besides that, he'd started dating Daphne Greengrass. While they seemed like a good couple, Hermione had often thought that maybe- if she'd given Theo a chance that day at the lake- he'd be dating her instead.

And then 6th year, when everything had gotten so confusing. Theo was the sort of crush that she held onto underneath it all, but that was hardly any reason to stop her own life. By this point, she'd been almost sure- as most had- that Daphne and Theo were meant to be. When her own feelings for Ron started to bloom, no one could have been more surprised.

And then after that, there was that year running away, finding horcruxes. Hermione wasn't sure what Nott had been doing during that time, but she thought about him. She thought about him constantly. For as much as her crush on Ron started to flutter alive, there were many nights when she found herself praying for Theo's safety, for his intelligence to pull him through, that he wouldn't be killed by an Auror or his own men. She gave more thought to Theo than was strictly reasonable during this time.

She never ran into him, only Malfoy that one time, so she had hope. That day in the Manor, the question had been on the tip of her tounge, to question after Theo. She knew that would only lead to disaster. She knew she couldn't. She kept quiet.

Ron had kissed her in the Chambers, as the whole world knew. Hermione wasn't the sort to keep waiting for something she had settled herself into thinking wasn't going to happen, and she was happy with Ron. Most of the time.

After the war, he was still dating Daphne. The Greengrasses, Pucey, Malfoy, Theodore, Warrington, and Zabini were all Slytherins that were freed of most of the horrific things others were condemned for. For most of them, there was the explicit understanding they were to be watched like hawks for their last year at Hogwarts, a real last year. Hermione had already made up her mind about going, but a part of her felt like crying when she heard Theo would be there too.

After much poking and prodding, she'd convinced the boys to come back. A part of her because she told herself they needed to finish the education. A part to assure that she wouldn't do anything stupid without them there, such as, kiss Theo.

Those plans had all been fine and dandy, until she'd gotten to her first day of classes and realized that Theo was in nearly every single one. They shared a similar brain, so really, who was she kidding? She saw Theo in class more than she saw Harry or Ron or Ginny, which wasn't doing great things for her mental will. But, it was doing fantastic things for her dream-self, which always flung her to some faraway place kissing Theo and letting him take off her clothes and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.

In some of the dreams, they met in the library. In others, they were in his Slytherin dorm. In one, he was asking her to run away with him. And in all of these dreams, she always recognized that she was dating Ron, but she never seemed to care.

She didn't like being that sort of person. The sort that would cheat on her significant other. However, she assured herself that these were only dreams. It was what kept her longing for him at bay so she didn't do something stupid in person.

She wasn't a home wrecker either. She may not love Daphne, but she respected her enough to not attempt anything. But great Godrick, that hardly stopped her from thinking about it all the time.

This particular class was Ancient Runes. They'd both finished the advanced-level classwork somewhere at the end of 6th year. Professor Babbling had offered them this; be teaching assistants for the rest of the classes, and then once a week she'd give them homework and their own private lesson. It would be an Advanced Ancient Runes, something you might study post-Hogwarts.

Unsurprisingly, both jumped at the chance.

The temperature was slipping into October by now. Hermione had gotten used to Theo being near her again, and the dreams and naughty thoughts that came along with it.

But she loved Ron, oh she did. She also realized that her little crush on Nott...it had never really vanished.

Usually Hermione could shut out her thoughts and hyper-focus. Today, with the noise of whatever the class was learning outside, mixed with the scent that Theo wore (she hadn't unmuddled the smells in her mind, but Merlin was it doing things to her), made it completely impossible to do anything.

"You okay?"

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see Theo examining her closely, catching her eyes as he lifted an eyebrow.

"You seem off today," Theo noticed, "Because I just saw you mark that students work as 'correct', even though it's obviously wrong. It should be an Ehwaz." He said.

Hermione looked down at her work. Fucking hell, he was right.

"Are you watching me, Theo?"

She wasn't sure where that voice came from. That sweet, giggling, saccharine tone that made Theo's face flush. Hermione did not flirt. She was far too pragmatic for that. She didn't giggle around Ron, at least never in public. This voice, the one that she heard Lavender or Pansy use often, was foreign to her.

What was she thinking?

Oh yes, she wasn't.

"It's hard to ignore Hermione Granger zoning out." He waved a hand, "Since I think I've only ever seen you on one setting; working."

"I just," she bit her lip, "I'm thinking about the meeting with McGonagall today." She lied quickly, "It's been nice not to have to worry about the future. Just go back to school and all. But soon we have to decide." She inhaled. Now that she was talking about it, she realized she truly was worried.

"The doors will open itself up to Hermione Granger. I'm not sure why you're concerned," Theo said, looking at her like she was mad. It was clear that neither were going to return to grading anytime soon. She set down her items.

"That's the issue!" She tried to explain, "Is that everyone expects me to do something great. I'm Hermione Granger, one third of the Wizarding World saviors. More than that, I'm the 'intelligent one'. I feel as though if I don't pick something worthy enough, the public-,"

"Excuse my French for a second, but fuck them," Theo snapped irritatedly, face darkening.

"I-what?"

"Seriously, fuck the entire world. You don't owe them shit, Hermione. You saved everyone's asses. If you want to spend the rest of your days breeding field mice or painting bad representations of dogs playing poker, then who is anyone to tell you not to?"

Despite the severity of his voice, Hermione couldn't help but break out with a smile.

"Well, I don't want to do either of those things."

Theo grinned back, almost going to pat her shoulder, but dropped his hand awkwardly to his lap, "Well, see. We're already getting somewhere." There was a pause, "What do you want to do Hermione?"

No one, sans McGonagall, had actually asked her that yet. Maybe Ron and Harry and Ginny all thought she knew, or maybe they didn't care. Maybe they'd all decided, like most people had, what they thought she should be doing.

"I…" She trailed off, "I honestly don't know."

It was the first time she'd said that outloud. Hermione Granger, the girl with a plan, for once felt lost. From her fourth-year on, her entirety of her being had been focused on helping Harry stay alive, defeating Voldemort. She'd never given thought to what could come after, it there would be that.

Plus, the girl that started the war no longer existed. Hermione was very different now.

Theo only looked at her with sympathy. No pity, just a soft look. Something too soft for him, so unlike his usually reserved exterior.

"Well, what about you? Maybe if I hear what you're doing, it will jump start my own thoughts," She asked, repaying the favor. She doubted many people were inquiring about Theo's plans either, "When's your meeting with McGonagall?"

Theo just shook his head.

"It's...already happened?"

"I'm not meeting with her," He said quietly.

"Oh! Slughorn?" She had been under the impression that McGonagall, as the headmistress, was meeting with all the 7th and 8th year students, not just Gryffindors. Perhaps that thought had been in error?

"Nobody," Theo said sharply, "I'm not...no one."

"But-,"

"No one cares," Theo bit out savagely, "What a former Death Eater wants to do after he graduates. The world would probably be happier if I just rolled over dead."

His anger seemed to roll off his shoulders. She could feel the darkness that rose from him, like a dark heat, as menacing as Fiendfyre. There was pain behind it though too, hidden. Self-loathing. Fear. Hurt.

"Fuck. Them."

Theo started so much he nearly fell off the couch. Despite the fact that in Hermione's head she swore quite a bit, she tried to be a good influence on the younger students, and therefore avoided such language. This was probably the first time he- or anyone besides Ginny- had ever heard her swear out loud.

"You don't owe the world a damn thing either," She reminded, "If you want me to believe it, you have to believe that yourself."

"It's different."

"It's not. We're children, Theo," Hermione enunciated, "We fought in a war that was hardly ours. We inherited it, whether we wanted to or not. You wouldn't be here if nearly fifty people didn't find you innocent." She said firmly.

"What did I do to get the Great Hermione Granger's trust in me?" He asked, giving a rickety, hollow laugh.

I _started to fall in love with you…_

She looked away, "You proved yourself. I know it. You're not a bad person. So, what do you want to do?"

Theo knit his eyebrows together. There was a moment in which she was sure he wasn't going to answer. He looked very deep in thought. Finally, tentatively, he spoke.

"I want to change the world."

His voice was a hair above a whisper. It felt like he was bequeathing upon her a great secret to the universe. Perhaps just a secret about himself.

"I want to do good. I want to be good. I want to do something to leave a better memory upon the world. I…" He seemed to be unable to stop himself now that he'd broken the seal upon his wish, "I need to. Not because of my stigma, but because I actually have always wanted to. I know I'm good at a lot, but I'm mint at Potions. I hear in Paris, there's this group that's trying to make potions to reverse the effects of the Cruciatus. Or in Brazil, there's a hub of witches and wizards that are studying curse removals. Or in Australia, there's a wizard who thinks if we study some of the fish there, we can make potions to cure Cancer. I want to be a part of something bigger."

"I haven't heard of any of those!" Hermione said, instantly intrigued.

"Hogwarts shows you just such a small slice of magic. It's all very topiary, you do realize," Theo said, "But there are people out there that have handed down magic you wouldn't believe, or discovering brand new types." He said, his eyes alighting, "There's even discussions about sending wizards to the moon, to the galaxy! Who knows what's out there for us?"

"I hadn't ever…" Hermione breathed out, "That's incredible. Do you think we could?"

"One wizard theorizes that the air near Jupiter could have revitalizing powers for lots of things, due to the dust and the particles and all."

"But, wouldn't you die?" Hermione asked, frowning. There was a pause, "Right," she added, cheeks flushing, "I suppose, firstly magic physiology is different than humans, and as wizards we'd be able to make some sort of magic barrier to...ah," She winced, "That was a stupid question."

And she would, recall that stupid question for the rest of her life. She surely hoped that Theo didn't find her unintelligent.

Theo didn't mock her, just shrugged, "We'd find a way."

"I think I want that too," Hermione said after a second, "To continue doing good. Whatever that may be." She nudged him. The touch of her shoulder to his sent shivers up her spine, "You helped me a lot."

"You're just saying that." Theo laughed, "But it's okay. It feels nice to be needed, if only in pretend."

"You need to work on your self-confidence, Theodore Nott," Hermione said with a raised eyebrow.

"Right. Yeah. I have so much to be confident about,``he snorted, rolling his eyes. He leaned back on the couch, carding his fingers through his hair.

"I think you're pretty great." The words slipped from her lips before she could think them fully, stop herself. Theo looked up, surprised, fingers paused half-way on the back of his head.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Hermione said, her neck flushing a dark shade and her forehead sweating a bit. No use denying it now.

Theo looked down, exhaling once as though something was amusing. If only he truly knew how good he looked right now. How ridiculously sexy he looked, even just relaxing on the chair. Hermione's heart thudded fast and she prayed to any god out there to help her with this ridiculous crush of hers. Theo looked up. She hoped that he couldn't see how much wanted him in her eyes.

"You know?" He said, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, "Somehow, that does sorta make me feel better."

While he could be lying for her little Gryffindor bleeding heart, Hermione- for the rest of her life- would choose to believe that on that day, she helped him a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, how cute! So, just a few notes...
> 
> 1) So, yes, we skipped the entire war. A lot of times with war, you get a very...dark story, which isn't where I want this to go. So, I gave you an abridged version of what happened. If you need to know something I'll let you know, but otherwise assume it's not important. Besides, there's a Theomione story that I have that DOES deal with the war. A lot of it. That brings us to
> 
> 2) I have posted a new Theo/Hermione story that I'm writing in tandem with this (Ahh, just can't get enough of Theo/Hermione, I suppose) called 'While Tyr Slept'. It is much darker and is a time-travel story that will cover a lot of ideas like morality, gray magic, magic theory, and war from behind the scenes. I'm like 6 chapters in! Go check it out and maybe leave a review!
> 
> 3) Lastly, this has nothing to do with the story, but is a personal query. I just got a new computer for my bday, but NONE of my itunes library carried over. Most of the songs on my itunes library is stuff I downloaded from youtube or other sites, ie not purchased via Itunes. I've spent a lot of time curating this library and adding in all the info for the songs, is there a way to transfer that data? I have 8000 songs and I would literally CRY if I lost all of that. If you're computer savvy, hit me up because I am high key STRESSED.


	7. Hermione's Paris Flat; 2004

Back in her apartment, Hermione stumbled into the bathroom. She felt like crying. She didn’t know for  _ what  _ though. Joy? Shock? Anger? Sadness? 

_ You cry when you’re overwhelmed,  _ she felt the gentle voice of her subconscious remind her,  _ and right now you’re a mess.  _

She gripped the sink’s edge, staring at her reflection. At her lips, red and swollen from where Theo’s teeth had nipped in playful affection. She touched her hair, almost completely out of the elastic holder she’d snapped on this morning, tugged to look like she’d been in a thunderstorm. She looked down at her knuckles and her arms shaking, realizing with a jolt of horror she’d left all those new books she’d bought on the sidewalk. 

As she dabbed her face with a towel, trying to sift through the whirlwind of emotions, she realized that she’d also apparated in the middle of muggle Paris where anyone could have- and likely did- see her. 

She groaned; the last thing she needed was France’s Wizarding Minister to come knocking at her door with an indictment. 

Hermione slumped into her bed, curling onto the mattress. 

“Theo kissed you.” She whispered as she pulled the blankets halfheartedly over her figure, “No, you kissed him and he kissed back.” 

She pressed her hands into her eye sockets. 

She was dating Ron. 

Merlin above, she’d just cheated on him! She’d hadn’t even shoved Theo away. It’s like her brain had stopped working and she let herself believe in this wild fantasy she’d thought about countless times before.

That’s all it could be for her, a fantasy. Not when she was in a loving relationship and smarter than this! Not when she was pretty sure Ron was going to propose soon, not when her life seemed to be going exactly how she’d planned it to. Hermione bit back bile.

She’d just ruined everything. 

And how dare Theo? How dare he say those things to her now, out of all the other times he could have? She could count more time than she had fingers on her hand moments where she felt like she was begging him to speak up, to reveal his feelings. The times she was looking for a sign and he never gave her one. Now, when she was finally content with Ron, he decides to go and fuck it up? The absolute gall of that Slytherin, she decided, properly affronted. 

She chewed on her nails. 

There were two options. She could tell Ron and hope for the best or she could never tell him, knowing that it was unlikely Theodore would ever confront him. 

“Or you could break up with Ron,” Hermione felt herself mumbling, a third option she was trying not to think about. Which was a ludicrous solution. Not even an option, really. 

She’d been dating Ron seven years. To throw away what felt like most of her life would be quite foolish, not when she knew he loved her and she loved him. Merlin, she did! She loved Ron the way that embers felt like. It wasn’t flaming, but it was steady and always warm, always underneath everything. 

She wished it were easier. She wished she didn’t love Ron anymore, that they had been going their separate ways for a while now. 

And that’s the trouble, wasn’t it? There had been times, more times than she could rightfully recall right now when if Theo had done what he just did to her, she’d gleefully drop everything and leave Ron because things had been worse. 

But, like any good couple, she and Ron had worked through their issues. Every time that Hermione had a problem with his attitude or that he called her something nasty or that she shut him out, they talked about it. The Ron that she had met at Hogwarts was eons above the Ron that she knew now, a much better adjusted human in many ways. 

When Ron and she were together, it was good. So good. Ron made her laugh, Ron loved her despite her issues (she wasn’t perfect, she knew this), Ron would care for her always. 

After seven years, Hermione- who always liked a plan- had made one. She’d made a trajectory of her life that seemed infallible and unshakeable. It went simply; marry Ron, have one or two kids, get a job at Hogwarts, be happy. 

Seven years of her life, Merlin. 

If she took Ron away, what was left? 

Well, a lot, she knew. She had her friends (though, many of their friends were in the same group, so that would be awkward), she had her job and her hobbies, she probably had Theo…

Did she really want to throw something steady and great away for the whisper of a possibility? 

Theo had expressed a long-standing crush on her. Maybe he didn’t believe in marriage or children. Maybe they weren’t as compatible in the long run, feelings aside. 

Maybe, and Hermione has considered this many times, she was deeply in love with the idea of Theodore Nott as compared to the actual person. 

And, if she did, how fair would that be to Ron? That he was always a consolation prize or something, a second pick because Theo wasn’t available? Sure, she wasn’t forced to stay with someone, but the idea of just tossing Ron aside made her feel ill all over again. 

And Ron’s family? What would they say if they knew?

Because Hermione’s own family was possibly lost to Australia and her memory charms, she’d begun to lean heavily into Ron’s family, anticipating the joining of it one day. She loved Ron’s older brothers like they were her brothers. Molly was like her mum, Arthur like her dad. They’d never forgive her! 

No more Sunday Brunches at the Burrow, no more Aunt Hermione from Bill and Percy’s kids, no more of the little hobbled-together family she’d carved out for herself. She was sure that they wouldn’t drop her immediately (well, most, Molly she couldn’t be sure) but it would never be the same again. 

And then, what if she dumped Ron for Theo, they did date, but it didn’t work out anyway? What if she left this more alone than ever before? What if she found herself five or ten years down the line, a spinster, wishing she hadn’t been so overcome by a schoolgirl's crush when Theo passed her way. What if Ron moved on…

Ron marrying someone else tugged at her heartstrings.

Imagining Theo marrying someone that wasn’t her seemed to hurt even more. 

This was impossible. A Gordian knot of epic proportions. A riddle with no answer. A situation that was only going to leave most people heartbroken. 

Either way, someone was going to be hurt.

Hermione had tried to live her life after the war without hurting others. She’d done too much of that when she was in school. 

This was going to break that, wasn’t it? Ron or Theo would be heartbroken, not to mention the collateral damage of the friends of Hermione on the fringes. It seemed that after that one moment in the streets of Paris, Ron’s likelihood of ending up hurting was growing stronger and stronger.

And what about Hermione? 

There was no solution now where she got what she wanted. She was being torn in two. No matter what she chooses, she’d always be wondering about the other.

She didn’t usually allow herself such moments of fragile weakness, but Hermione cried until her eyes grew tired and she slipped into sleep, hoping when she woke things would be better.

XX

“Hermione!” 

She snapped her eyes awake. It took a moment for her to look at her surroundings and recall the events. Her heart thudded and her throat constricted. 

“Hermione, Merlin, are you okay?” 

Hermione blearily looked up at Hannah, standing above her, concern knitting on her face. Hannah pushed a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear as she knelt down.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione asked, her throat dry and croaky. 

“We were supposed to meet to help me start packing,” Hannah said, “But you never showed. And I called via Floo like eighty times.” 

“Oh,” Hermione responded, feeling even more awful. Her own issues had been so overwhelming that she’d forgotten about Hannah! 

Apart from Ron and Harry, Hannah was the only other person who had a key to her apartment.

Their friendship had been an unexpected one. During their last year at Hogwarts, when Hermione had begun to stray from Harry and Ron she’d found herself rather friendless. The trio would always share something uniquely special, but they all seemed to want to branch out in different ways. Or perhaps it was instinctual. Hermione wasn’t sure. 

Hannah was a face she began to see in her classes regularly. It wasn’t long before the two were giggling in the halls, studying together and swapping secrets. Hannah was, undoubtedly, her dearest friend. She trusted Hannah in a way she wasn’t sure she trusted Ron or Harry anymore. 

Hannah was the sole person who knew of her deep, endless longing for Theo. She always got a pinched, a concerned look on her face, but she’d never judged Hermione. She always just listened. And sometimes, Hermione just needed someone to talk to.

“Hannah,” Hermione hiccuped, “I’ve done something terrible.” 

For as much as she loved Hannah like a sister, she could not admit her folly, The words would not come out. She tried to vocalize it, but it just got stuck in the back of her throat. 

“Do you want to tell me right now?” Hannah asked, staring at Hermione. Hermione managed to shake her head, bringing her hand in front of her face and holding back ugly sobs.

Hannah stood, arms crossed, biting her lip as she stared down. 

“Okay,” She finally conceded. “Okay.” 

Hermione watched as Hannah flung open Hermione’s wardrobe and began to dig. Hermione raised herself into a sitting position only to be pelted by a sequined garment.

“Dress,” Hannah commanded. 

“This is a little fancy to pack dishware, isn’t it?” Hermione asked. It hurt her heart to know that Hannah would be moving back to England soon, with her newly-minted husband Neville, but Hermione was going to be a good friend and help her back. The thought that Hannah wouldn’t just be a Floo away was going to be difficult, especially after...well after this. It was hard to be chipper about Hannah moving, but Hermione would shoulder it. 

“It’s 9 P.M. I don’t want to touch another piece of bubble wrap,” Hannah said, flexing her fingers. “We’re going out. Even if you don’t want to tell me, you need a drink or two. And I feel like I need one in preparation.” She added as an after-thought. She rifled through Hermione’s closet some more until she procured a slightly fancier top than the t-shirt she had one. Hermione balled her own assigned clothes in her arms as Hannah changed in front of her, poofing her hair in the mirror. She looked at Hermione through the back of the mirror. 

“Well, go on!”

Hermione slipped into the bathroom and changed.

Twenty minutes later they found themselves at one of their favorite muggle watering holes. Hermione felt like she was on a live-wire, her eyes dancing to the door, hoping to see Theo but dreading the possibility she could. 

Hannah waved two fingers to the bartender and came back with shot glasses, which was unexpected. Hermione had been thinking it would be a mixed drink.

“Are you trying to get me drunk enough to tell you or drunk enough that I forget what I did?”

“Both?”

Hermione winced, picking up the glass. She clinked it with Hannah, downing it at once. The burn from the alcohol tasted better than the bitter taste from the truth that clung to her insides, eating her away. 

“Okay, you gotta give me something. It’s not...illegal is it?” Hannah’s face turned ashy, “You didn't kill someone?” 

“Is that really such a concern?” Hermione asked, clacking her lips, “Great Godric, Hannah!” 

“Well, how am I to know?” Hannah threw her hands out. 

“No, no,” Hermione slid her empty shot glass on the table, closing her eyes as she tried not to think back to the moment that was replying on her brain over and over and over, “Not illegal. Just shitty.” 

“Was it your fault?” 

“Mhh, yeah.” 

“Was it something you’d usually do?” Hannah said. 

“No,” Hermione whispered, feeling small, “I wasn’t thinking, but that’s no excuse.” Hermione swallowed hard, “Twenty questions are done. I need another shot or a drink and we need to talk about something else,” She forced a bright smile, “I’ll go get us something and then I want you to tell me all about the cottage you and Nev picked.” 

Hermione knew that Hannah knew it was a distraction from the real issue, but like a good sport and better friend, she spent the next two hours describing in minuscule detail the perfect and fairy-tale abode that she and Neville were going to call home in a short few weeks. She talked about the gardens outside, the kitchen that looked out onto a field, the bedroom that felt like it was tucked away in a tree-house. 

Hannah talked about how they were arguing about what color to paint the walls in the mudroom, about the adorable pillows that Mrs. Weasley had knitted them for their wedding gift, and about how they were going to put up portraits of those who had died in the final battle on their walls as a reminder that they were so lucky. 

It took Hermione’s mind off the issue, or that may have been the alcohol. All Hermione knew was that it was a blissful two hours in which she was not plagued with guilt and indecision. 

By the time Hermione and Hannah popped back to her flat, Hermione was feeling lighter and better already.

That is until they got home and Ron tried calling via Floo, as he often did at night to say that he loved Hermione and ask about her day. Their long-distance relationship right now was not without its trials, but they made it work. 

Hermione saw the fire burn and turned sharply into the bathroom. 

“I can’t...I can’t…” She muttered as fear and horror washed over her. She turned to see Hannah examining the unanswered floo and Hermione’s face with a sort of dawning. Perhaps not a full understanding, but a better idea. 

Hermione closed the door to the bathroom, knowing that this wasn’t something she could put off to infinity. But she could put it off tonight. If she talked to Ron...Merlin, it would all come out. Her choice would likely be made for her.

Hermione hated feeling out of control. 

From the other room, she heard Hannah answer. Hannah’s dulcet and kind voice was muffled, though she could tell that Hannah was coming up with some simple excuse, and she heard that she promised to Ron that Hermione would call him tomorrow. Then, after she ended the conversation, there was a pause in which it seemed Hannah was contemplating what to do next. Hermione listened to her socked feet slide across the floor. 

“Mi?” Hannah asked, knocking lightly on the door, “I think, maybe, you need to tell me.” 

Hermione gathered herself. She opened the door, shaking her head. She wiped her thumb across her cheek, looking at her watery mascara. 

“I ran into Theo,” She whispered, “And I kissed him. I kissed him a lot, Hannah. And I bloody enjoyed it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that everyone wants Hermione to just leave Ron and get with Theo, but that would be far too easy, wouldn't it? While I'm all for some good Ron bashing on occasion, I never set out to have that story be like this. I wanted the choice to be difficult. I wanted Ron to actually be a pretty great guy that really loves Hermione and all, so that there is something more. So, we still have a very long road ahead of us, all! 
> 
> Admittedly, this chapter was a lot of Hermione's introspection. However, I think it was necessary to see how Hermione's brain was working through this and all. We'll get some of Theo's thoughts later, no fear!


	8. Hogwarts Hallways; 1998

Romance was in the air. 

Hermione wished she could metaphorically bat it out of the sky if she weren’t so pleased that there was a sense of lightness amongst the students. 

No one could have predicted how a Post-War Hogwarts class would look like. There were so many empty gaps, not just in the seventh and eighth years, but in every space. There were places where a young child had been felled far too young and no one seemed to want to fill it. Leave a chair open in Divination, a space on the benches in the great hall, a bed perpetually un-made from the scramble of last year...Hermione had been present for a conversation in which the adults feared that some scars would have run simply too deep. They feared that all the things that made Hogwarts fun (though, of course, learning was the primary objective, but one couldn’t deny what ‘fun’ did for one’s soul) would be just darkened and impossible to recapture. 

Yes, the first few months had been rocky, but it seemed that coming upon two months into the year, everyone’s minds were elsewhere. Specifically, on others. 

It had been Lavender’s idea, of course. The hopeless romantic had brought it to the Hogwarts Staff and no one had found a good enough reason to deny her what she was asking for; a ball. 

“Oh, it will be brill!” She’d said, clasping her hands together, “We can hold it on Halloween. I’ll take care of everything, everything, I swear. Me and Susan. It will give the students something to look forward to!” 

And take charge of it she had. Hermione, who usually had a finger in every cauldron of late, was more than happy to step away completely from this. 

The only ball most students had ever been to was the Yule Ball, which was steeped in tradition and followed a precedent. 

There was nothing like this. 

“We want the students to be comfortable,” Hermione overheard Lavender tell her helpers- Susan Bones and Terry Boot, “No traditional dress robes, no complicated dance moves. We want people to be laughing and enjoying themselves and not worrying about where to put their feet or if their ancestor’s ruffles still smell like mothballs. Students can come in muggle jeans and trainers for all I care.” 

The news and excitement caught on quickly. Maybe everyone was looking for a reason to put aside their sadness. Maybe the idea of a party with good food and dance was far too tempting to sneer at. Maybe Lavender really had struck genius with this. Whatever it was, the castle went from a place where people hardly whispered in the halls to where giggling and gossip about the dance was the primary topic. Hermione usually couldn’t go five feet without someone telling someone about something having to do with this upcoming dance. 

It had been a handful of years ago, yes, but Hermione did recall the way people asked each other to the Yule Ball. Most were with notes sent fluttering across the Great Hall or left in book bags. A few men managed to muster up the courage to ask in person. Viktor had found her in the library and it had been very sweet. It had seemed so anti-climatic. So simple. 

It was not simple now. 

It seemed that simply going up and asking someone was the minority. No, the students were making big, romantic gestures. Each tried to out-do the other. 

Hermione was fairly sure it started with a Ravenclaw who asked out a Gryffindor. She hadn’t been present, but from the things picked up in the halls, he’d apparently transfigured a goblet at dinner into a lion about the size of a house-cat and it had come bounding over with a letter clasped in its jaws. 

Then, after that show, it was a Slytherin asking a Hufflepuff by holding up a sign during a Quidditch match.

After that, Neville had asked Hannah (and thank Merlin that the two of them were finally together) by bewitching a plant to spell out her name in letters on the side of Hogwarts Castle when she came by for her daily morning stroll. 

Well, as soon as war-hero Neville Longbottom had hopped on this train of ostentatious asking, it was nearly impossible to stop young students from coming up with crazier and crazier ways of asking one another to the dance. 

Dean was musing about it all one night. He wondered if this newfound sense of courage and confidence from students was an effect of winning the war. Or, he added, perhaps students merely realized that being rejected was hardly the worst thing that could happen to them. Not when, of course, they’d faced literal death only months before. 

At first, the teachers tried to quell this behavior. It was starting to interrupt class time. However, when Flitwick admitted that he loved seeing all of this happening (and that there was quite some fancy Charms being used, he added, preening with pride) all the other teachers seemed to at least tolerate it. Hermione was almost sure she nearly saw McGonagall smiling at one such presentation at dinner. 

Ron had asked Hermione first they heard about the dance, way in the beginning. She was certain Ron wasn’t going to ask her in any other public way and she was glad. Or, she thought she was. 

Despite being one of the ‘Golden Trio’ that the newspapers dubbed them, Hermione enjoyed a private sense of being. She didn’t like all her laundry (dirty or not) to be aired to everyone. Plus, it wasn’t like her and Ron going together would surprise anyone. He didn’t have to find the perfect way to admit his feelings. They were solid, she decided, and there was no reason to waste all that time putting on a show. 

Still, she had to wonder, if he were to ask her...what would Ron do? Would it be something related to what he enjoyed, like Quidditch? Would Hermione have to graciously accept, despite her mind inwardly reminding her how she hated the sport? Or, would Ron look outside of that and try to do something Hermione would enjoy, like write the request with Ancient Runes? 

She couldn’t be sure. 

Harry had asked Ginny with a whole tonne of roses, it seemed, strewn out all over her bedroom. He’d gotten help to bring them all up there. 

That wasn’t public, but it wasn’t private either. And, everyone assumed Harry and Ginny would go together. 

Especially after that, Hermione spent much of her free time half-hoping and half-fearing that Ron would re-ask her too. 

She’d say yes, of course, but she feared that he’d get it colossally wrong and it would be sweet, but off the mark. Or, would it mean he just didn’t care if he never re-asked her? 

And, if these thoughts weren’t bad enough, the dreams of Theo seemed to never end. If Hermione had thought them bad before, they were unbearable now. 

Sex dreams Hermione could take. She’d had sex dreams about loads of people. It was entirely natural. Sure, there was a tinge of awkwardness the next morning when you caught their gaze over a pitcher of pumpkin juice and wondered if they actually were as good a lover as your dreams made them out to be, but it was something she could handle. 

She did dream about Theo more frequently than anyone else, but Hermione didn’t give much stock to divination anyway, so it was easy to ignore it.

She was also well-used to sex dreams featuring Theo. So well, in fact, that she hardly even gave the hint of blush when she’d see him in class. She could sit right next to him and replay the traitorous machinations of her inner-mind giving her these fantasies without stumbling or getting flustered. 

What Hermione could not handle were the dreams in which Theo asked her to the dance. Or where, during the dance, he stole her for a slow song. Or, where afterwards, he’d kiss her cheek and tuck a pink rose behind her ear. 

It was nearly nightly. 

She hated herself for how much she wanted Theo to ask her, despite the fact they were both dating others. She hated how her pulse would pick up just imagining Theo twirling her around or her laying her head on his shoulder, like some love-sick fool. She hated how she’d search for that rose when she woke up, as though it would pop out of her dreams and into this world, or that it would actually be a token for her. 

She hated all of it. 

And, everyone making heart-eyes at one another was simply not helping the situation. 

It was both a blessing and a curse they hadn’t seen each other alone in Ancient Runes of late. Theo had been out with a bad cough for the last week. Hermione had worried far more than appropriate, though she knew that Pomfrey was just being overly-cautious. Out of all their classes, Advanced Ancient Runes took the most energy, so he was advised to take a quick hiatus from it. Hermione had been solo for four days. 

A very silly part of her feared that if they were alone, somehow, it might slip that she’d been thinking of him in this context...the two of them, coupled, at the dance. 

The dance was in two days. She only had to make it until then, and well, she’d be safe after that. 

Somehow, she’d allowed herself to be roped into helping someone ask another person out. She would complain more about it, but she didn’t hate the idea of romance entirely, nor did she want to discourage younger students from feeling those sorts of things. 

Derek Knightly was a sixth-year student that Hermione had grown to be friends with during her time back here at Hogwarts. She was unsure about what began the friendship to say, and it didn’t bother her a lick he was two years younger. She always remembered him to be a studious wizard and that much was true now more than ever. They’d become like siblings, she liked to think. There was just something about the young Ravenclaw that Hermione saw herself reflected back, so perhaps she was drawn to him for a reason. 

He was terribly shy, however. 

Hermione wouldn’t call herself shy. Quiet? Sometimes. Shy? Never. She supposed that was thanks to her Gryffindor heritage. So, when she’d half-jokingly asked Derek if he’d asked anyone yet, and he’d admitted he hadn’t the courage to ask someone. A specific someone.

After much ribbing and curiosity, because Hermione was honestly quite surprised, he’d admitted he held a flame for Morag McDougal, a student in a year between theirs. 

Morag was quirky and bright-hearted. Derek explained how they’d both been working together on Hogwarts reparations over the summer and somewhere, he’d developed a crush. Morag was someone Hermione also knew well. Despite illegally sneaking back into the battle, and therefore seeing horrors no sixteen-year-old should have to see, Morag had retained her cheery disposition and playful nature. 

Hermione would have never considered them to be a fine pair, but now she hoped that it worked out. Derek needed someone as spontaneous as she and Morag would do well for such a stable companion. 

Derek had charmed a small pig to grow wings, not unlike the magical mini dragons that Harry had chosen out of a basket during the tournament. It was accompanied by a sign ‘If pigs were to fly, would you accompany me to the dance?”

“I’m too nervous to ask myself,” He’d wheezed, meeting up with Hermione for breakfast this morning, “You need to ask her.” 

“What? No, Derek, you can do it,” Hermione said, nudging him gently. 

“Oh, Merlin, I’m going to vomit,” He groaned, “Please?” He said, staring up at Hermione, “If she says yes, fantastic. If she says no...oh, I couldn’t be standing in front of her for that.” He nudged one of his muffins across the table, “Don’t you want to help a young war-survivor find love?” 

Thus, how Hermione was saddled with this task. 

She figured she’d go during Ancient Runes. The class wasn’t doing much and Hermione could afford to pop out for a few minutes. 

“Professor Babbling. Do you mind if I go and...do something for a few moments once the students have begun working?” Hermione asked, approaching the desk. Theo was gone again. Probably for the best. 

“What sort of thing, Hermione?” Babbling questioned, looking up from her grading. Her eyes slid over Hermione’s shoulder, “Oh, Theo! Glad to see you back.”   
Hermione spun around, nearly dropping the box Derek had handed off to her. It had been days since she’d seen him in person and it felt like years. 

“Uhm, I…” Hermione turned around slowly, trying to regain her breath, “It’s an ask. To the dance.” She admitted, “Not for me, I’m asking for someone else.” 

“Oh!” Babbling clapped her hands together, “You know, this dance is making my heart feel young again. How wondrous.” 

“Yes, I agree.” Hermione said, “So-,” 

“Be sure to be back swiftly.” 

Hermione grabbed her knapsack and her wand, pulling out a parchment, not unlike the Marauder's Map, but this was used to locate where a student was, or what class they were supposed to be in. 

“Did I hear you’re delivering a dance ask?”

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to see Theo tilting his head, looking at her.

“You did.” 

“Didn’t Ron already ask you?” Theo squinted, “Or, my, my, are you really breaking tradition and asking him?” He grinned lazily at her. 

“No, he’s asked. I’m helping a friend,” Hermione said. Then, she stared at his face, looking much more full of color than last week, when he’d left the class feeling ill, “I’m glad you’re better.” She murmured quietly. 

“Thanks,” Theo said, rubbing the back of his neck, “Can I, uh, come too?” He motioned to the box, “To help?” 

“It’s really a one-person job and-,” 

“I haven’t been part of one yet, though,” Theo pouted. His expression was adorable, Hermione was angry at herself for thinking. And she knew his claim to be true. While many students were pulling their best mates around to ask with an acapella group or a whole set of signs held up, Theo hadn’t been involved in any yet. She knew she would have found out if he were. 

And, Hermione could not ignore the fact that she wanted him to come, even if she knew she shouldn't be thinking that.

But, what was a friend helping another friend with an ask, right? 

“If Babbling is okay with it.” 

“We agreed to catch up on my work after the dance,” Theo waved a hand, “The whole school’s practically checked-out with it so close.” 

“You say that again,” Hermione snorted. She figured out that Morag was most likely to be in Arithmancy currently. She folded the roster back into her pocket, “You’re going with Daphne?” She asked quietly. 

“Yeah. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was before people started doing this.” He said. 

“Haven’t you thought of re-asking her?” She was asking for her own sake. Maybe this was just something guys didn’t even think about. 

“It seems rather pointless now,” Theo showed the whites of his teeth, “Though I do wish I’d waited so I could ask her. She’d want something public,” He said, sticking his hands in his pants pockets. 

“Oh?” In so many ways, Daphne was the opposite of Hermione. Maybe that’s what Theo wanted, she considered. 

“She likes big gestures. Big gaudy things. Haven’t you noticed that ridiculously sized emerald she wears all the time?” Theo raised an eyebrow. 

“Not your style?” This did surprise Hermione. The Notts were an old family. She figured he’d be the first one digging through the vaults for valuable baubles. 

“I dunno,” He replied after a second, scrunching up his nose, “I guess, maybe not.” 

Hermione’s heart thudded a bit. She foolishly wanted to link their hands together, but it would come from nowhere.

“Ah, we’re here.” She motioned to the door. It had seemed like no time at all walking across the castle. Time seemed to act differently when she was around Theo. 

Hermione knocked on the door. The students were doing independent work. Professor Vector gave a tired smile when Hermione entered with a box aloft. Theo trailed behind. Hermione hadn’t been lying, there really wasn’t much for him to do. Still, it almost felt like it meant something (to whom, she couldn't say) that they were doing this as a pair. Not as Hermione just doing it, but with Theo with her. As though they were...coupled. 

“Let’s get this through. Third today,” Vector said, but Hermione wasn’t sure she actually was annoyed. 

The whole class turned. Morag’s whole face lit up when she saw Hermione, and Hermione had to wonder if she knew this was for her. She’d talked to Morag before about her closeness with Derek, but at the time hadn’t known that Derek had liked her. How long had this been going on? 

It seemed she wasn’t the only one holding back crushes. 

Hermione set the box on an empty table. She tapped it twice, muttering the enchantment under her breath. 

The top of the box opened and a pair of small balloons lifted a mini and very loudly oinking, pig into the air. The question, the one about pigs flying, followed. 

Then, the balloons popped and right before the pig hit the table, it sprouted a pair of little wings. It zoomed around, the students laughing and watching as it sailed through the air. Hermione couldn’t help but step back and smile fondly. Not only was this an impressive display of magic, but it did also kindle something inside of her. Morag was blushing profusely but had the widest smile on her face. 

The pig dove into the box and picked up a letter, which he dropped off right on Morag’s desk. It sat on its haunches, snorting up at her. She took the letter and unwrapped the ribbon. She read the letter, giggling to herself before she turned back to Hermione. 

“Tell Derek, of course, I say yes.” 

Hermione couldn’t help but let out a long sigh of relief and a noise of laughter herself. She waved goodbye to Professor Vector, apologizing for interrupting, and started back to the classroom.

“Wait, aren’t you going to go find Derek?” Theo asked. 

“Well, I figured I’d see him at lunch in a few periods,” Hermione frowned. 

“Oh, come on, Granger! The boy’s probably biting his nails in anticipation. He knew it was happening this hour. We’d be cruel to leave him waiting. Plus, I gotta show my worth somehow,” Theo said, grabbing the paper from her back pocket. The closeness of his fingers grazing her pants caused her to intake, wishing he’d accidentally brushed closer. 

“I have to access it. Special privilege,” Hermione said, plucking the paper away. Rolling her eyes, she opened it. Theo leaned over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear as they scrolled.

“Darn, History of Magic. Think Binns’ cockles of his heart have been warmed by all of this?” Theo paused, “Can ghosts feel love, you think? Ah, well, we should try anyway.” 

Before Hermione could stop him, Theo had turned in the opposite direction. She ran to catch up with him, coming to fall into stride side-by-side. 

Binns was lecturing, as he always was. 

“Ah, mint! He’s right by the door!” Theo said, taking Hermione’s satchel of her arm. Hermione wasn’t sure if he was always so lackadaisy with personal space or if she was just noticing it now. 

“What are you-,” 

“Parchment!” He said, holding it up, “And...what’s that?” 

“A muggle pen.” Hermione said, laughing at his expression as he turned it, “It’s like a never-ending quill. You don’t have to re-dip.” She liked taking notes with it. Much less work. 

“Hmm, strange,” He said but used the rough wall to jolt out a message. ‘She said yes! Congrats, mate!’ 

Hermione watched as he worked with absolute focus, biting his lip as he began to fold the parchment carefully. Then, he stood in the doorway, eyeing where Derek was half-sleeping on his desk. 

Hermione realized a second later what his intention was after he’d thrown the paper airplane into the room.

It hit Derek on the side of his head. He jolted, kicking the underside of his desk. Binns didn't notice, but most around him did. He spotted the airplane and opened it and Hermione got to see the look of utter joy pass over his face, as it had Morag’s. 

He turned, his gaze turning confused as he spied Theo next to Hermione. His eyes flickered between them, ever the Ravenclaw, trying to analyze something that Hermione hoped no one saw there. 

Theo gave a thumbs up and Hermione forced a smile. Derek gave up whatever he was trying to calculate and gave a wordless ‘thank you’ to the pair. 

“Love is some kind of wonderful, sometimes, don’t you agree?” Theo asked. 

Hermione paused, staring at his figure, pushing down her feelings more so than ever. She knew if he turned back around, she’d be found out, staring at him with such a soft expression that it would be hard to try to call it platonic. Still, she was in a rather romantic mood, no getting around it. She even had the thought that she couldn’t remember feeling so swept off her feet with Ron, and Theo wasn’t even doing anything right now. Even that thought could not pause the infectious feeling Nott was giving off. 

Her lips curled upward. 

“Yeah, it is.” 


	9. Hermione's Paris Flat; 2004 (2)

“Hey, Nev...yeah, I gotta stay here tonight. Sorry luv, I know you were expecting me.” 

Hermione watched Hannah numbly from her couch on the floo, smiling brightly at Neville’s imprint in the dust, her smile just a tad bit forced. 

“ _ Everything all right? Hermione’s okay, isn’t she?”  _ Neville’s concern broke Hermione. He shouldn’t be so concerned. He should hate her (even if he didn’t know). Hermione didn’t deserve such a kind, that soft tone from him. Ron was one of his best mates, great Merlin! 

“She’s…” Hannah looked back, playing with her braided hair. Hermione could see the indecision flash across her face, the uncertainty as she licked her lips, staring at Hermione. Not like Hermione was a villain, which Hermione half-way expected, but more like Neville’s pet toad had died. Mournful. 

To say that everything was all right was a colossal lie. This was not alright. Nothing about the situation was all right. Hannah wasn’t someone so accustomed to lying. 

“Hermione’s not dead,” Hannah finally said, “As we sort of feared. But there’s just something I need to work on here.” 

It was a clever skirting of the truth. Something she was surprised Hannah had the capability for at all. Even as Hannah spoke, though, it was clear to Hermione she did not enjoy the truths she withheld. 

“ _ Okay, if you need to. Love you Hans.”  _

“Love you to, Nev. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The floo Powder call drifted back into the basin. 

“You shouldn’t...you don’t…” Hermione croaked out, “Neville can…” She broke off, staring at her hands. 

“No, not yet.” 

“I don’t think he’d tell anyone,” Hermione murmured, thinking of how loyal Neville was. Which just made her think of Ron’s loyalty to her and that made her feel awful all over again. 

“That’s not my concern,” Hannah’s voice was tight. Hermione could try she was attempting very hard not to judge Hermione, to yell at her, to condemn her. Hannah was a kind person at the best of times, but she did not stand for cheating.

Hermione used to think that was true of herself too. 

Hannah sighed, flopping down to sit next to Hermione. She gave her a sad, apologetic smile, linking her fingers in Hermione’s. She gave a gentle squeeze. 

“Hannah-,” 

“You are my best mate, Hermione,” Hannah said quietly, “And I would never think any less of you. Even this. You saw me at some of my worst 8th year at Hogwarts, and I know that you’re not going around snogging multiple wizards all over London. It’s not like this is a character trait of yours. Though if it was, I’d still love you.” 

Hermione struggled not to cry, and her voice broke, “Thanks.” 

She wasn’t sure if she believed Hannah when the blonde said she was not judging Hermione. Hannah was a better liar than she recalled, or maybe, she was genuine. On one hand, Hufflepuffs valued loyalty, so this had to be breaking all of her usual standards. Then again, perhaps it was not loyalty in itself, but loyalty to people that was the cornerstone? 

“Hermione.” 

Hermione looked down. She’d been on a tangent in her mind, an easy way to distract herself from the issue at hand. It was something Hannah knew her to do often, a protective technique. 

“It’s still wrong,” Hannah said after a long moment, “It’s still wrong.” She repeated quieter, as though shocked she said it. 

Hermione burrowed into the seat, scowling, “I know.” 

“I know that you know.” Hannah agreed, “Or else you wouldn’t be half wasted right now.” 

Hermione winced, “Will you tell Ron?” 

Would she feel compelled? Was it something she thought that he had to know? Would she be able to look at him and keep the knowledge inside of her that Hermione Granger had snogged someone else? 

“Are you going to?” Hannah asked, raising an eyebrow. When Hermione took a beat too long to answer, she quirked her lips, “No, no. It’s not my place. All gossip eventually comes out, but I will have nothing to do with spreading it. Even if they are true.” 

“I’m…” Hermione licked her lips, “I don’t think I am. He doesn’t need to find out, you know? Things can still continue on, perfectly. Plus, it’s not as though he’s perfect. I mean, I’ve caught him staring at other girl’s arses before.” She said, as though these two things were even on the same plane of existence with one another. Hannah gave just a quiet ‘hmm’. 

“I’d tell him if I were leaving him for Theo.” 

“You’re not?” Despite Hannah’s best attempts to seem impartial, this squeaked it’s way out without stopping. She slapped her hand over her mouth. Hermione stared her down, until she let out a quiet, “You’ve been halfway in love for  _ years _ .” 

“But it feels cheap like this, doesn’t it?” Hermione said though she wasn’t sure who she was convincing, “I mean, to happen in this way. We could have...before...and it just seems so...he didn’t step back either, and he knows I’m dating Ron. We had just been talking about it!” She was suddenly furious with Theo, as though she herself were not part of this screw-up at all. 

“But…” Hannah sighed, staring hard at her, “Maybe. Yeah.” 

“I think I can live just knowing that I wasn’t crazy. That Theo did, does, like me back. That in itself will satisfy me,” Hermione continued, “Because Ron and I are so close to the finish line so it seems stupid that I would throw it away now, for what? I mean, for all I know, Theo could be going around kissing old classmates frequently! And I’d be throwing away my future with Ron over this?” Hermione gave a firm shake of her head but was less sure by the third time she was making the motion. 

She got up, going and fetching a glass of water. Her head was pounding. She blamed alcohol. She drank three whole glasses in the doorway of her kitchen. 

“I don’t have to decide tonight, do I?” She asked in a small voice. 

“No,” Hannah drew out the word, “But, well, shouldn’t you soon? It would be cruel to lead Ron on.” 

Hermione knew this to be true. 

“You’re Hermione Granger.” Hannah suddenly stood. 

“Yes?” Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering if there were amnesia powder wafting through the air. 

“Well, do what Hermione Granger does,” Hannah said, “And make a list. Pros and cons.” She practically threw the parchment and ink at Hermione. 

“You want me to do a chart? Like I’d make while deciding if I should buy a beige or a red couch for my apartment?” She asked. 

“Well,” Hannah settled onto the very obviously bright red couch, “Had it helped?” 

“That wasn’t...I didn’t…” Hermione floundered, “If I chose wrong between those two it would be just a quick return. Or, I’d just live with a slightly off-color couch in my house. Men aren’t furniture.” 

“No, of course,” Hannah snorted, “But it will be worse if you don’t make this choice without considering what you’re giving up in each. You’re lucky that right now you even get a choice, you know.” 

“Do I?” Hermione asked in a quiet tone, “Do I get that option, after what I’ve done? Does Theo ever want something…” Hermione licked her lips, “This is a chance. This is me questioning not between Theo and Ron, but between Ron and...uncertainty.” 

Hermione rubbed her hands on her pants. She’d never much liked uncertainty before. She liked knowing what she was facing and studying. 

Still, it felt important she made this distinction. Her and Theo had shared one kiss together and nothing else discussed. One kiss was not a declaration of wanting to date someone, nor pursue anything serious.

What she really had to ask herself is if she were happy enough with Ron, knowing there were others out there. It might be Theo, it might not. She could stay with Ron who was steady and unmoving and so loyally in love with her. She never doubted Ron’s love, not for a second. This had never been a question in all the fights they’d had. 

Or, would she gamble that there was just simply more out there? A fuller life? A fuller romance? Something more fitting, instead of Hermione trying to fit her square-shaped love into a circle-shaped hole, as that’s how sometimes it felt? 

Without realizing it, her mind had already begun to write the two columns. It seemed silly not to formally write it out at this point. 

Hannah drank wine while she supplied Hermione with water. Hermione ended up filling a full parchment, and then another. She scratched and dotted and scrawled. Her hands were stained with the ink she had on hand, a starry blue shade, and her smudged fingerprints dotted her cheek and lip as she paused to think, dragging her digits along her face. 

Hannah eventually found something else to do; making some sugary treats in Hermine’s kitchen. Just having her there, the moral support, felt nice. On occasion, Hermione would wander in to ask Hannah something, such as;

“Do you think it’s stupid to be putting stock in Ron’s family on the ‘pro’s?” Hermione wondered out loud, “I mean, I’m not dating the Weasleys, I’m dating Ron.” 

“I think,” Hannah said, mixing her batter, “If they were a bad family, you wouldn’t hesitate to put them on the ‘con’s side. It’s something to consider. And they are a family to you, though I don’t think you’d lose them if you and Ron broke up,” She said with a smile, “You’ve been part of their family far longer than you’ve been Ron’s girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, but,” Hermione gnawed. True, Ginny and the twins wouldn’t stop talking to her, nor would Bill. She really never saw Charlie and Percy were so hard to read as it was. In a sense, it was knowing she would lose Mrs. Weasley. At the worst of times, she was protective of Ron to extremes, as shown in her earlier years. But why shouldn’t she? 

In truth, it wasn’t as much the siblings Hermione feared losing, but that maternal and paternal figures.

Her parents would likely never regain their memory, so Hermione had to live with that. Still, thousand times over, she’d prefer this route. If she let them stay in England and they were killed while she did nothing, she would have never forgiven herself. 

By the time Hannah had finished baking, Hermione was nearly done. She had exhausted all points and the papers lay around her like snow. 

“I don’t feel like a Gryffindor,” Hermione said quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“I think I can’t leave Ron,” Hermione said quietly, “Not after everything. Not for some...whisper of something else, something that for all accounts could be worse. It’s the safe route. So does that make me not really a Gryffindor?” 

“You’re Hermione,” Hannah said, giving her a lemon-bar, “So...houses don’t matter. I wouldn’t choose to stay or leave someone due to my Hogwarts house,” She scoffed, “Does it feel right to you?” 

Hermione paused. She yawned. Then at the lemon bar, which was fantastic, per usual to Hannah’s cooking.

“Let’s go to bed. You should never make a choice without a full night’s sleep,” Hannah said, pulling Hermione into her bed, lying next to her. It felt like the nights at Hogwarts, where they’d comfort each other. Hermione had spent a few nights in the Hufflepuff girl’s dorms, comforting Hannah, or allowing Hannah to comfort her. 

“That’s what I always say,” Hermione mumbled. 

“Words from a really wise person who will make the best choice for them,” Hannah said, “Now, sleep.” 

Though usually Hermione tossed and turned, she felt like Hannah had put a spell upon her and she fell into slumber with little issue at all. 

The morning light came and her head felt like someone had sent a stunner at her. And she knew this exact feeling quite specifically too. She groaned, getting up, her hands crunching on paper. She wondered why her bed was covered in parchment until she picked one up and read the contents.

Her pros and con lists, yes, of course. 

Hannah was already making breakfast in her kitchen, rising with the sun, bright and cheery. 

“Hungover?” She guessed, as though she didn’t know. 

“Very.” 

Hannah slid her a coffee and a plate of bacon. She didn’t push or prod and let Hermione eat all, licking the bacon grease off her fingers. Hermione wiped off the ink from her face the best she could as Hannah found her wand and purse.

“Nev will be worried if I’m not back soon.” Hannah said apologetically, “And possibly send some Aurors here.” 

“No, I’ve kept you for long enough,” Hermione insisted, feeling a bit silly about this whole thing anyway.

Hannah nodded, kissing her cheeks. Just as Hannah was about to jump into the floo, Hermione made a noise. Hannah turned, head tilted.

“Ron. It’s him. I just...I still think…” Hermione, usually so articulate, felt she was having trouble explaining, “I can’t leave him.” 

“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Hannah said sincerely, “I trust your judgment. More than anyone else’s, you know that.” 

“Right. This was just a moment of a bad choice, you know? And it never had to happen.” Yes, Ron wasn’t perfect, but neither was Theo or any other person she’d meet. She liked the idea of him, the platonic idealism of theory, the untouched idealized version of him. She was stupid to think they wouldn’t have their fights and issues too, so with that in mind, it seemed silly to be so worked up over it. She might be frustrated by the circular feeling of her arguments with Ron, but the grass probably wasn’t greener elsewhere. 

Hannah gave her a half-apologetic smile, “I won’t tell him. But I won’t lie for you, Hermione.” Hermione wondered where the idea ever came from that Hufflepuffs let people walk all over them. Hannah was gentle but terrifyingly serious right now. Or perhaps the war had helped her grow her courage. 

“If he ever has reason to ask, and asks me directly,” Hannah blinked, “I can’t be a liar.” 

“No, no,” Hermione sighed, “If he has reason to doubt, well...then I should be able to handle the fallout.” 

“I think you’ll be fine,” Hannah said after a long moment, as though just finally deciding.

“Me or me and Ron?” 

“You’ll be fine,” Hannah repeated, “I’ll see you on Thursday. Don’t make me come looking again!” She half-joked, half-threatened. 

“Merlin, you won’t,” Hermione laughed, “Give Nev a kiss for me!” 

As her fireplace glowed bright green, Hermione felt a sense of lightness in her chest. She gathered the papers and threw them into her regular fire-place, content with her own choice.

Theo and that whole affair had just been a fluke. She was silly to ever think otherwise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, once again, a bit of introspection. I do promise that the 'present' chapters will eventually get more interesting (and steamier!) but Hermione needed to really work this out what she was going to do going forward for herself. We still have a lot of the story to get through, so it wouldn't be so easy for her to choose Theo right away!


End file.
